Summer Camp
by Revolutionary Unicorn
Summary: Summer Camp for the Hetalia boys? That can only mean a summer full of pranks, drama, camp activities, ghost stories and... love? We'll see. Rated for; probable smut, bad language and who knows what else.
1. Meetings

Alfred F. Jones bounced excitedly on the worn leather seat of the hot and over crowded school bus. His brother, Matthew, was next to him, his nose buried in a dog-eared book. The bus rumbled around a corner. onto a dusty road, and noises of excitement and off key camp songs escalated. Alfred was, of course, part of the thrilled babble, talking animatedly to his brother.

"I can't wait to get there! Do you think Francis and Gilbert and Antonio will be there again? Those guys are freaking _bad ass, _I mean, seriously, I had a blast hanging out with them last year! Maybe we'll get paired with them again, won't that be awesome Mattie?" he stared out the widow, his body stirring with anxious energy. His feet tapped the floor and his fingers fiddled with everything they could reach; his jeans, his hair, the bolts in the window, Matthew's hair, Matthew's shirt..

Matthew grunted without commitment. He was deep in the interweaving of his book, and he had long since learned to tune out his brother's obnoxious rambles and anxiously roaming hands. Though, if Alfred had been watching closely, he would have noticed Matthew's face flush pleasantly when he said 'Gilbert'.

But Alfred was not paying attention at all. He was staring eagerly out the widow, eyes scanning the road ahead for the familiar wooden signs that proclaimed that they were close to the 'Hetalia Academy Summer Camp'. This was his second year going, and he couldn't help but be excited. He loved summer, but even more than summer, he loved camping. Combine the two, and he couldn't help but be overflowing with exhilaration and anticipation.

Hetalia Academy had two campuses; one was located in good old US of A, in the sweltering state of Texas. The second was located in France, where Matthew's and Alfred's camp buddies – Antonio, Gilbert and Francis - attended. Hetalia Academy was known for it's extreme diversity. They boasted that almost all races were represented there, and they also had excellent sports teams and academic prospects. Alfred counted himself lucky to go there – and he counted himself extra lucky that he was selected of the forty boys to go to the summer camp. If the school was exclusive, then the camp was even more so.

The bus turned another precarious corner, and Alfred let forth a shout of triumph at the sight of the wagon wheel sign stretching across the road, announcing their arrival at the camp. Matthew looked up and smiled, pulling himself up right and stuffing his book into his carry on bag.

"This is gonna be freaking _awesome_!" Alfred shouted, his head out the window as they rumbled into the camp.

Matthew agreed silently, peering around his brother's chest to get a view of the camp himself. The twenty boys that had been chosen from the campus in France were already here; they had been flown over a few days before the boys from the other campus arrived, so they could recover from jet lag before the _real _fun started.

Alfred jumped up and down, pointing excitedly out the window. "Look who it is, Mattie!" he laughed enthusiastically and waved to Francis, Antonio and Gilbert. It had been an entire year since they had seen their long distance friends, and Alfred was excited to see them again. Matthew was excited too, waving to them through the glass of the window, since Alfred was hogging the open part.

"You better get your stuff, Al, or you'll leave it on the bus again." Last year, Alfred had been so enthusiastic that he had thrown himself out the door, completely forgetting his jacket and his carry on. He didn't have another jacket with him, so he had suffered a little when it had rained, but he hadn't really minded. He had just danced in the rain, and made fun of his friends when they had refused to join him. He was in bed for two days due to a nasty cold.

Alfred extracted himself from the window and slung his bag over his shoulder. His jacket was in his suitcase, which was packed into the back half of the bus. He wouldn't forget that this time, even if dancing in the rain had been fun!

The bus came to a shuddering halt, and Alfred threw himself at the door, Matthew in tow. They were closer to the back of the bus, but Alfred wasn't afraid to shove past the slow pokes who were taking their time leaving their seats. The other boys didn't mind so much - except the one who was halfway out into the aisle and got his toes mashed - because they were used to Alfred's enthusiasm. Alfred barreled off of the bus, grinned so wide that it looked like it would split his face in two.

"Tonio! Francis! Gil!" Alfred shouted, making a mad dash towards them. There was a round of back slapping, hand shaking and hugs as they greeted each other. The excitement even rubbed off onto Matthew, who was being louder than normal.

Francis, the Frenchman of the group, grinned widely and clapped Matthew on the back. "Welcome back, you crazy brothers." he said, his accent thick and sultry. Last year, about halfway through camp, he had lost most of his accent, but it had come back full force over the school year.

"Geez, how come you didn't tell me you were coming?" Alfred demanded, holding Antonio in a friendly headlock. "I even talking to you on the phone before we left, Gil!" he shot an accusing stare at the albino.

Gilbert shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips. "I wanted it to be a surprise. And besides, it's too much fun watching you come off that bus like you were shot from a cannon."

Alfred laughed and released Antonio, who was rubbing his neck and wincing. He was the smallest of the – as Alfred had dubbed them – Bad Ass Trio, and was often in the tight grip of one of Alfred's affectionate head locks. "Haven't lost your strength, have ya, Al?" he asked, a chuckle escaping his throat.

Alfred was about to respond, but the leader of the camp was speaking to them through a megaphone. "Campers, if you just got off the bus, please get your luggage and troop to the dining hall! We have assignments, announcements, and cheesy introduction games to play!"

Alfred grabbed Matthew by the elbow and hauled him to where the bags were being piled in an undignified pile behind the school bus. The Trio laughed at them, and took off for the dining hall.

~.~

_It's damn bloody hot._ Those were the first things that Arthur Kirkland thought when he exited the cool interior of the Hetalia Academy air plane. Not only was it hot, it was humid, making it positively sweltering. Arthur had growled to himself in disgust as he and nineteen other boys were herded to the waiting bus. It had been a long flight, and Arthur was beyond tired. The boy behind him – whoever he was – had kicked the back of his seat the entire flight there, despite the vicious glares that Arthur had given him. He couldn't have slept on the plane, even if he had wanted to, with those annoying feet pressing insistently into his backbone through the seat.

They were bussed swiftly to the camp, fed dinner, and then been allowed to fall into a bed – though there was emphasis that this would not be their permanent bed for the summer. Arthur had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he didn't wake up until the frog, Francis, dumped cold ice water on his head. Apparently he had missed the wake up call and breakfast, and was heading on towards lunch. Arthur was glad – though he wouldn't admit it – that the frog had woken him up. He had had enough sleep, and now he was famished. He didn't even taste the food as he scarfed it down.

He had spent the rest of the afternoon in his cabin – they had free time for a while – reading and sweating through his shirt until the cry of, "The bus is coming!" met his ears.

Arthur groaned and set down his book. He pulled himself upright, stuffing the book unceremoniously into his bag. The twenty boys from the American campus were here now, and he couldn't help but dread their arrival. This was his first year, and he was nervous. He had heard a lot of good stories about this camp, about how much fun it was, but he had also heard some not so good things.

He left the cabin and stood back as old friends greeted each other, feeling awkward and out of place. He was glad when the call came to meet in the dining hall. That was the only building with air conditioning, and it would certainly feel nice to get out of the sticky hot air outside.

Arthur hustled inside, gratefully enjoying the feeling of chilled air washing over his sweat soaked skin. Instantly, the heat of outside was forgotten as he moved to find a seat on the wooden floor. All of the chairs and tables had been shoved off to the side of the bigger-than-necessary dining hall, leaving them lot's of space on the floor in front of the make shift stage.

Arthur had just chosen a spot when the frog approached him, grinning obscenely. "Artie, are you excited yet?"

"Go away, you frog." Arthur snapped. His crude British accent rang heavily in his own ears, sounding so different from the mix of other voices around him. He hadn't actually spoken the past day or so, either being to frustrated, to tired or to busy stuffing his face to bother. "What the bloody hell do you want?"

"Oh, nothing, _mon petite."_ that grin was bordering on lewd. "I was just curious to see if you were excited for your assignment. Wouldn't it be just amazing if we were partners this year?"

"Stop hitting on me." Arthur muttered, leaning his palms behind him on the cool, but gritty, floor. He was tired again, and not in the mood the deal with the obnoxious Francis at the moment. "Go hit on Antonio or something."

"Boring. And besides, Tonio is too busy making out with his long lost Italian lover, Lovino." Francis made a dramatic face, fluttering his eye lashes and rolling his eyes. "Oh, _Lovi.._" he mimicked in the worst Spanish accent Arthur had ever heard, then winked at him. "But of course, since you seem to be in a grumpy mood, I will leave you alone to brood. _Au_ _revoir_, _Angleterre_."he waved and flounced off.

England rolled his eyes and shook his head. What an obnoxious person. _He bloody well not be _my _partner._ He thought to himself, and his anxiety returned. He wasn't good at meeting new people. He found that he preferred being anti-social, rolling his eyes and avoiding the stupid people he came across frequently at school. He had a room mate – Arthur could scarcely remember his name – but they were barely ever at the room at the same time.

"Excuse me! Listen up, Campers! Let's get the ball on the role so we can get this over with!" the head of the camp, John Aswald, stood at the front of the room, standing on a plastic crate – the make-shift stage - and speaking into an abused megaphone. He pointed accusingly at one of the campers who yelled back in a foreign language. "I know you speak English, so don't pull that one over me! Take a seat, everyone, or we'll be here all night long!" It took almost five minutes of prompting before the entire room was sitting in hushed silence.

"All right! I know everyone is excited, but the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can get some grub." he grinned widely, and then asked, "How many of you have been here before?" Arthur quick counted about twelve hands go up. That wasn't very many old timers. "Awesome!" John continued, giving the crowd a thumbs up. "So that means that the rest of you have never been here before. Lemme give you a run down of what goes on here.

"First and foremost, there are twenty of you from the Academy in France, and twenty of you from the Academy in Texas. That means there are..." he paused, raising his eyebrow.

A mutual call of, "Forty!" rang out from the teenage boys, who laughed and shoved each other with giddy energy.

John nodded. "Right! There are forty of you. Here's how we split up; first, there will be a pair of two of you. One person from Texas Academy and one person from France. Each pair will be required to stay together at all times." he put a hand up to halt the jeering cries of "What about in the bathroom?" or "Do we have to shower together?" and continued. "You all know the answer to those questions, so don't ask them. I mean I want to see you and your partner together during activities, meals, in your cabin, out of your cabin, etcetera. The exception to this rule is bathing, using the toilet and Sundays. On Sundays, you are not required to be with your partner if you really don't want to be. Got that?" he grinned and moved on. "Every pair will have another pair joined up with them. The group of four is who you will be doing activities with, and who you will share part of a cabin with. Got it?"

Arthur reviewed the information in his mind. He would have a partner who he had to spend his time with – accept obvious places and Sunday – and he and his partner would have a pair of secondary partners? Making four total. Whatever.

Nods and exclamations of agreement followed, and the room started to rile up again. Energy was spreading like wildfire, causing all of the boys to be jittery with excitement. "We're not done yet!" John had to almost shout into the megaphone to reclaim attention. The high pitched squeal it made in protest was enough to regather the attention to the front. "We'll announce pairs and pairs of pairs when I'm done explaining the rules." there were groans of horror. "That's right, the rules. First of all, and this is a rule that has been broken in the past, so don't be surprised. There is absolutely no PDA on camp grounds." he sent a glare towards Antonio, and Arthur couldn't help but grin. The Spaniard looked flushed – and somewhat aroused – sitting next to who must be the Italian that the frog had been talking about. "I don't think I need to explain that rule, and I don't think the innocent mind of our nublets want me to."

Arthur rolled his eyes at that comment.

"Second rule is, as I stated, you must be with your partner at all times, accept for the times that I previous stated. Three. Lights out is at midnight, but you have to be _in_ your cabin at ten thirty. There are three councilors assigned to each cabin, so don't think you'll be overlooked if you aren't there." he shot another glare at Antonio, who grinned in a way that said, 'Who, me?'.

At this point, Arthur zoned out. All the rules were mundane and ritualistic, not something that required his attention. He watched an ant crawl laboriously across the floor, until the loud shouts of excitement grabbed his attention. He assumed that they were announcing pairs now. A bubble of anxiety swelled in his stomach, and he nibbled his bottom lip out of habit.

"Yes, yes, calm down please. I know you're excited and all, but really." John shook his head and grinned. "I'll be going by first name only, because I checked the list and none of you have the same first name. Isn't that nice? In no particular order – and no, do not rush to find your partner as soon as I say their name, please kindly wait for my signal – Ludwig and Feliciano, Matthew and Gilbert, Francis and Kiku, Yao and Ivan, Antonio and Romano, Toris and Feliks, Arthur and..." Arthur felt himself tense, having finally heard his own name. "Alfred."

_Who the bloody..?_ Arthur didn't have a vague clue who that was, but he had guessed as much. His best bet was to ask the frog, who seemed to know everyone in both schools. He glanced around and saw Francis grinning at him, pointing not-so-discretely to a blond head that was sitting right next to him. Arthur frowned to himself and nodded, letting the other boy know that he had gotten the point.

Sometimes frog face wasn't all _that _bad.

~.~

Alfred searched his brain, trying to remember if he knew an Arthur from last year. He couldn't remember one, so he could only guess that the Arthur he was paired with was new. He bounced up and down where he sat, restless to get his hands on his new partner. He wanted to meet the person he would be spending the rest of the summer with! Two months of pure summer awesomeness!

He was on his feet as soon as John shouted, "_Go!"_ and looked to Francis for help. The blond had already grabbed his partner, Kiku, a small Japanese boy that Alfred was acquainted with. "This way!" Francis shouted triumphantly, tugging both Kiku and Alfred along behind him as he wove through the swarming crowd. Random names were being shouted out as the desperate man hunt went on. The boys practically scrambled over each other to find their hidden partners.

"There!" came Francis' shout, and Alfred was towed even faster towards the back of the room. A blond haired, green eyed, utterly confused looking boy stood there. Alfred grinned and pulled himself out of Francis' grip. "Arthur!" he called, waving at the blond. Arthur looked up, but didn't smile. He merely assessed Alfred with clear green eyes.

"_Amusez_-_vous_!" Francis called, turning and towing Kiku away. Kiku had wide eyed look of utter bewilderment on his face, but he allowed himself to be towed along.

"You're Alfred, I suppose?" the British accent brought a smile to Alfred's face and he nodded enthusiastically.

He grabbed Arthur's hand, shaking it vigorously even though it hadn't been offered to him. "I'm so excited for this summer, dude! We're gonna have such a freaking blast, I know we will!"

Arthur nodded coolly, and Alfred felt his spirit deflate a little. First impressions were everything to him, and this was not impressive. If Arthur was as cold and unresponsive like this all summer, they would not have fun. Or at least, Alfred wouldn't.

~.~

Arthur's heart was hammering in his chest when he met Alfred. Even though he wanted to make a good first impression, he felt himself slipping into a cool facade, his face blank and still, and is voice smooth and chilled.

_Damn.._ he thought when he saw Alfred's face fall a little. _Not exactly what I wanted when I met my partner. _He shrugged off this feeling though, and settled into himself. He tried to give Alfred a warm smile, but he knew it came off more of a wince.

~.~

Soon after the original pairs were announced, the attached pairs were announced. To Alfred's delight, he and his partner, Arthur Kirkland, were paired with his brother, Matthew, and his partner, Gilbert. Even though Arthur had started their relationship seeming kind of stuffy and shy, he soon loosened up as the games started. This made Alfred glad, because he didn't want someone boring.

They played silly get-to-know-each-other games – games that Matthew and Arthur both confessed to absolutely hate, but that Alfred and Gilbert loved. One game involved talking your partner through challenging – Alfred snorted with glee at the description – obstacle courses. Arthur was blind folded first, and Alfred led him through the obstacles. Shouting, "I'll get you through safely, Artie! Cuz I'm the hero here!" as then went along. Arthur was a good listener, and Alfred was a good leader. They made it through in record time. Arthur lead Alfred through a little more calmly than Alfred had, giving clear and concise instructions on where to place his feet. Alfred knew, then, that he was given a good person to be paired with.

Keeping with the theme of blindfolding, the pairs were separated and placed on opposite sides of the rooms with blindfolds on. On the shout of 'go', they had to go find their partner. Alfred located Arthur so quickly, that the other boys accused him of cheating. Alfred's argument to the accusation was, "I'm the hero! I can't cheat!" Returning campers groaned, and told him to not start that bull-crap again.

After several rounds of both games and several others, they reassembled the dining room and sat down to a hearty meal of sloppy joes – a meal that Arthur instantly dubbed as incredibly messy.

"Thus the name!" Alfred practically shouted around a mouthful of meat and bun, making Arthur cringe as Matthew was spattered with the spittle that came flying from the over enthusiastic boy's mouth.

"As much as I appreciate the favor..." Matthew said, wiping his face and sticking his tongue out at his twin. "Don't do it again."

Gilbert chortled and slapped Matthew joyfully on the back. "Lighten up, Mattie!" Arthur can't help but wonder if the albino was drunk. All the occasions that Arthur had been forced to be in the man's presence, he always came off that way. Then again, maybe it was just his personality.

Matthew choked a little and rolled his eyes at Arthur, but the Britain couldn't miss the small smile that played across his lips.

Alfred has just shoved the last bit of his sandwich – and Arthur has barely eaten half – when the camp leader released everyone for free time, with the reminder to stay with their partner. Alfred practically dragged Arthur from the dining hall, waving to Matthew as he ran. Arthur dug in his heals, effectively slowing down Alfred, but not stopping him completely. "We should get our bags!" he suggested, yanking on Alfred's shirt. Alfred had a strong grip on Arthur's elbow, and the Brit wondered if there would be finger shaped bruises there in the morning.

Alfred gave him a long look, surprise widening his eyes. Then a grin broke over his features, and he stopped fully, releasing Arthur's arm. "Right, of course!" he exclaimed. "'Cuz that makes sense, ya know, to put our stuff away before we explore."

_Explore..._ Arthur thought dismally, and he felt tired all over again. His arm was taken captive again, and he was dragged forward. Annoyed, he though, _I hope this won't become a habit._

~.~

_Hi. Dove here. I hope you like the first chapter of this story. I feel like it's kind of long, but I know it's not. Leave a pretty review and I might reply._

_This is rated M for future chapters. Will contain smut and stuff like that [haha. So typical]. I don't own Hetalia, though I wish I did. _


	2. Beginnings

Alfred dragged Arthur back to where he had set his luggage. It had been tossed by the American near the dining hall entrance, and was waiting patiently to be reclaimed. Alfred tossed the strap of his duffel bag over his left shoulder and the bag of his back pack over his right shoulder. He looked anxiously at the waiting Arthur and asked, "Where's your stuff? We should get it to."

Arthur nodded wearily. He could feel the start of a headache beginning at the fringes of his mind. "I think I left it all in cabin two." he replied. There were seven cabins used for sleeping. Five of the cabins were used by campers, and the other two were used by the cooks and the occasional visitors. "We're in cabin five, aren't we?"

Alfred grinned and nodded. He turned and began to skip down the path that lead to the five camper cabins. It was a lengthy path to walk when one was on the verge of exhaustion – as Arthur had been the previous night - but today it seemed much shorter. It went straight back into trees from the front door of the mess hall, then took a sharp right and narrowed from seven feet wide to four feet wide. It narrowed even more as it went on, to barely three feet wide. Another sharp turn, this time to the left, and they were in a wide clearing. Five cabins and two shower houses formed a friendly ring around an ash filled fire pit. Alfred was waiting impatiently for Arthur at the door to cabin number two, the second cabin to the left.

Each cabin was made the exact same way. When going directly in the front door, there was a small room, walls painted peeling white. Straight beyond the front door was an open rectangle in the wall, which lead into where the counselors slept. To the right and left were similar doors and wide 'windows' that gave a view into the rooms beyond it. Each side had two sets of bunk beds, and would be occupied by the groups of four.

Without a word, Arthur entered the cabin and began gathering his things. He hadn't unpacked much, accept for the pajamas he wore the night before, the clothes he now wore, and the book he had been reading, so it was easy to reassemble his luggage. Alfred grabbed Arthur's duffel bag when he had stuffed in the book and pjs, leaving only the backpack for Arthur to carry. Feeling a little offended at being treated like a girl, he followed Alfred out, and the two trooped straight to the door of Cabin 5.

Matthew and Gilbert, Alfred and Arthur's paired pair, were unpacking on the right side of the cabin, where a set of bunk beds and one of two six drawer tall dressers were sitting. Matthew looked up and grinned as Alfred dumped his load onto the bottom bunk of the unclaimed bunk beds. "Not exploring yet, Alfred?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Alfred jabbed his thumb at Arthur, smiling fondly at his brother. Arthur rolled his eyes and snatched his duffel bag. Alfred really hadn't insulted him, but Arthur was still annoyed. It showed clearly on his face as he began transferring his clothing from the bag to the bottom three drawers. "At least I'm being logical, unlike _you_ who wants to tramp off and leave your things unattended!" he mumbled as he refolded his shirts and stacked them neatly. Gilbert tromped over to him and knelt at his side, smacking him heartily on the back, a grin splitting his features.

"Don't be a sour puss, Artie!" he said loudly, ruffling the blond's hair. Arthur scowled and pushed the hand away. Gilbert gave him a short, raised eyebrow look, his crimson eyes serious, before he plastered a grin back on his face.

"You're as bad as Francis." he muttered, but the look Gilbert gave him was a reminder that he shouldn't get so annoyed. On the plane – when he wasn't busy glaring at the obnoxious boy behind him – he had imagined himself being friendly and nice to his partner (and he had embarrassingly admitted this to Gil, who offered 'a penny for his thoughts' in an uncharacteristic moment of thoughtfulness), but here he was, clearly contradicting himself with his obvious sour mood... He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to fix the mess that Gilbert had made of it. Behind him, Matthew, Alfred and Gilbert had started reminiscing, speaking excitedly about last year's adventures. Arthur overheard clips of conversation, but he was lost in thought.

He began to hum quietly to himself as thoughts turned over and over in his mind. He was invited to the camp because he excelled in all of his schooling, but it wasn't necessary that he accept. But he had, because he hadn't wanted to spend another boring summer with his family, or with his nose not buried in book all the time. He had _wanted_ to come. He had wanted to meet new people, and not being boring, stick-up-your-ass Arthur Kirkland.

He was suddenly jerked from his thoughts by Alfred calling his name, right next to his ear. Arthur jumped, nearly bashing his head into the other's nose. "Bloody git!" he shouted, one hand clutching the material over his chest as he fought to calm his racing heart. "Don't bloody _do _that!" he stared incredulously at Alfred, who was grinning at him. His blue eyes sparkled in mischief, and Arthur's heart skipped a beat before galloping on.

"Sorry, Artie!" he said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Are you ready to go look around? Seems as though all your clothes are put away." Arthur, dumbfounded, glanced at his duffel bag. It was sagging and empty. He glanced at his drawers. They were full to the brim with neatly folded clothing. His face turned scarlet, and his mouth hung open and he wracked his brain for a suitable excuse. He stared into amused blue eyes.

"You'll catch flies if you don't close your mouth." Gilbert chirped, and hand covering his mouth to stifle his giggles. Arthur snapped his mouth shut, his teeth clicking together with and audible _clack_. This made Gilbert laugh harder, and the hand over his lips did nothing to stop the sounds.

Arthur glared at the white haired boy before turning to look at Alfred again. Alfred, in an uncharacteristic moment of silence, just grinned. "Fine." Arthur said with a resigned sigh. "Do you wish to go explore now, Alfred?"

Alfred leaped to his feet, enthusiasm returning full force as he shouted, "Yes!" and punctuated the exclamation with a fist pump.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Alfred, you already know every inch of this camp. Do you really have to drag Arthur around?"

Alfred only grinned wider. "I can show Arthur around and rediscover!" he proclaimed, then paused. "Unless, of course, you don't want to, Arthur." he added hastily, sending Arthur an anxious look.

Arthur stood up, stretching his cramping legs and nodding. "I don't really have a problem with it." he responded, shoving whatever remained of his sour mood the the back of his conscience. "I wouldn't mind a tour of the grounds."

Alfred grinned triumphantly at Matthew, a clear glimmer of 'I told you so!' shining in his crystal blue eyes. Matthew rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. "Fine. Go. Don't stay out past ten thirty, though. They're still strict on the first day, eh."

"There are days they aren't strict?" Arthur asked, but he never received a reply. Before one could be properly formulated on Matthew's lips, Alfred had grabbed him and towed him out the cabin door. Arthur tripped and stumbled behind him, but could not faze that unrelenting grip. Finally, frustrated and certain he would have bruises in the morning, Arthur dug in his heals, yelping, "Stop dragging me around like a dog on a leash!"

Alfred halted instantly, releasing Arthur's arm with a sheepish smile. "Sorry." he apologized, rubbing his hand across the nape of his neck. The two were standing at the mouth of the trail, close to the mess hall. "I get a little too enthusiastic sometimes, I guess."

Arthur glared at him, rubbing his sore arm. "Gee, I didn't notice." he muttered, his sour mood returning full force. He sneered at his partner.

Alfred remained oblivious. He didn't even register the cold glare he was receiving, and Arthur was lucky that the sarcasm he was emitting didn't go straight over his counterpart's head. Alfred smiled, and Arthur's glare dimmed. "So do you still wanna explore?" The hopeful look in Alfred's eyes put a complete stop to Arthur's outrage.

Arthur sighed in defeat. _Impossible._ He thought to himself. _Impossible._ What exactly was impossible, he didn't let himself think about. Instead, he forged on. "I suppose so. As long as you promise not to drag me. I am perfectly capable of walking on my own accord."

Alfred grinned widely at him, nodding, making his hair flop into his face. "Where should I show you?" he was bouncing on the soles of his feet now, anxious to stop standing there and start moving. "I could show you the lake, or I could show you the cook's cabin, or we could go up the the haunted craft cabin – though I really don't wanna go there – or I could take you to see the road that leads to the girl's part of camp, around the lake a ways, or we could.."

Arthur sighed, rubbing his temples. "All right, all right!" he exclaimed, halting Alfred's thinking-out-loud speech. "I get the point. Where do you wanna go?"

Alfred grinned brightly, instantly exclaiming, "The beach!"

Arthur nodded wearily. "All right, that's fine with me." he agreed, gesturing for Alfred to start walking. The other did, and Arthur was grateful for the leisurely pace he set. He glanced at his watch. It was little after seven, though it seemed like it should be later than that. The sun was still up, but barely, and was quickly sinking below the horizon. Arthur wasn't particularly enthused about being out and about when the misquotes started sucking blood, but he didn't mind, not really.

"So, uh.." Alfred said, seeming to dislike the long silence that had formed between them as they walked. Arthur hadn't even noticed, but now that it had been pointed out to him, he found it awkward. Alfred continued. "So... England. Right?"

Arthur nodded. "Right."

Another awkward silence.

"I..." Alfred faltered for a minute. "I figured so, ya know, cuz of your accent and whatever. Where'd you live at in England? I mean, I know there's London or whatever, but I don't know any of the other towns or nothin."

Arthur smiled wanly. "I'm from Dover." he responded. He was glad that Alfred had asked and not just assumed that he was from London. Some of the American twats he had previously met had just _assumed_, and it incredibly pissed him off. "Where are you from?"

"Georgia! Obviously in the good old US of A." his grin was wide, and he was plainly proud of his heritage. "My folks have lived in Georgia for, like, ever! Dad's the main man there, all bad ass and stuff. Last time I checked, he was all mayor and whatever for Atlanta, but he hasn't updated me on what he's doing politics wise in a while."

Arthur rolled his eyes at his partner. He spoke so dramatically about everything, but Arthur couldn't decide if it was endearing or annoying. "What does your mother do?"

"Her? Oh, she ran off with some dude back when me and Matty were two. I haven't talked to her in a few years." he shrugged like this was nothing major. "Whatever. Last I checked she had a couple more kids, but I don't remember their names or anything."

Arthur was silent. He didn't know how to respond, necessarily, since he had never experienced such – or similar – circumstances before. He didn't feel like an 'I'm sorry' was appropriate, especially when it was obvious that Alfred himself wasn't sorry about the situation. After debating on what he should say, he opted for saying nothing. Alfred didn't even seem to notice, as, after a few moments, he continued talking.

"Me and Matty are twins, ya know." he informed.

Arthur gave him a surprised stare, then turned his head forward again. "I never would have guess, honestly." he said. The two looked alike, certainly, but their personalities were completely opposite. From what Arthur had gathered so far, Matthew was quiet, laid back. Alfred was loud and as excitable as a five year old.

Alfred grinned. "Actually, you're the first to think that we _aren't._ Matty gets mad cuz people mistake him for me all the time."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "How silly. He's quite obviously very different from you."

Alfred nodded. "Well, yeah, I mean really. He's all, pretty and stuff, and I'm obviously the buff and awesome hero." He lifted one arm, bending it and admiring the bulge of muscle beneath is t-shirt. Arthur rolled his eyes. Though Alfred was clearly fit, he wasn't bulky or impressive. He was still a little on the short side – though, Arthur was too – and his arms and legs were a little too long for his body.

"I'm not sure Matthew would appreciate being called 'pretty'." Arthur remarked blandly.

Alfred laughed. "He calls himself pretty! I'm sure he would agree with me if I said so to his face."

Arthur shook his head. He hadn't ever heard a guy call himself 'pretty', but then again, it was possible that Alfred was just exaggerating. In fact, Arthur wouldn't put it past the obnoxious American to do just that. "How long does this path go on for?" he asked, after a short, more comfortable than earlier, silence.

Alfred shrugged, his brown furrowing. They had tramped passed the mess hall, to a beaten dirt path fringed with woods and shrubs. It was straight, but inclined as they went. The only noise was their footsteps on the path, a soft crunch of weight falling on loose dust, rock and twigs. Dark shadows passed over them, creating distorted shapes and figures beneath their feet. Arthur felt a tingle at the base of his spine, and his skin prickled as an alarming feeling of near-dread passed over him. Alfred also seemed to be affected by sudden creepy feelings, because his face whitened.

Abruptly, Alfred reached over and latched onto Arthur's wrist again. "Maybe.. Maybe we should go back." he said, his eyes wide. His head whipped around to check all angles of the forest, studying he dense foliage.

"Nonsense." Arthur said, but his voice trembled ever so slightly. "We've already come this far, and it can't possibly be much longer."

They walked a few more paces, but then Alfred stopped, standing stark still, his grip heavy on Arthur's wrist. "Did you hear that?" he whispered breathlessly, looking wide eyed with fear at his British companion.

"I didn't hear any..." he stopped suddenly, as a clear yelp echoed through the air.

"Ok, that's enough for me, we're leaving now!" Alfred said, his voice high pitched with fear. He began to forcefully tug Arthur the way they had come, moving quickly.

"Alfred, don't be silly!" Arthur chided, wriggling his wrist loose from the tightening grasp. "Certainly it was nothing!"

Then, there was a loud keening noise. Alfred jumped, shrieking, and took off down the path so fast he was a blur among the shadows. Arthur was hot on his heals, just as eager to escape the creepy shadows as Alfred was. The two raced back down the path, around the mess hall and onto the path leading to the cabins.

When they reached their cabin, they burst through the door and collapsed into a pile at Matthew and Gilbert's feet. Through panting breaths, they attempted to explain their experience to the two bewildered boys, but they dissolved into giggles before a proper account could be sputtered out.

"Your face!" Arthur gasped through peals of laughter. "Was bloody hilarious!"

Alfred was laughing too hard to even respond. He clutched his ribs and groaned, but couldn't stop the amused noises that bubbled up and flooded out of him. "That _hurts_." he moaned. "It hurts to laugh..."

The two quieted down after a while, and Matthew ventured to ask, "What happened?"

Arthur glanced at Alfred and met his eyes. Another volley of laughter erupted from them, and Matthew rolled his eyes, annoyed. Gilbert lost interest and sprawled onto his bed.

Finally, the two could look at each other without falling into laughing hysterics. "You scream like a bloody girl, Alfred." Arthur told his companion, as he removed his shoes and dumped them on the floor next to his bed. The two had vaguely explained to Matthew and Gilbert what had happened. Matthew was clearly confused, but Gilbert had smiled at them like the cat who killed the canary. He refused to tell them why he was making such a guilty face, however, leaving them to revel in the frustration of unrevealed secrets.

"And _you_ run like a girl!" Alfred retorted, plopping himself down on the floor, and extending his long legs in from of him. He leaned back on his palms and grinned widely at his brother, who settled next to him. "You should have seen Arthur's face! We were halfway down the trail to the lake, ya know? And suddenly, he's clinging to me like some kind of damsel in distress..."

"Ex-_cuse_ me." Arthur interrupted with a snort, shoving Alfred's bag off his bunk with his foot. He was sitting primly on the mattress, ducking his head a little to avoid hitting the wood above him. "If I remember correctly, it was _you _clinging to _me_ like a frightened child."

Alfred plunged on, not in the slightest deterred by Arthur's interruption. "And he was just pleading me to turn around, but I didn't want to.."

"You're such a liar!" Arthur accused, frowning at him. "It was you doing all that stuff, not me, you oaf."

Matthew gave him a sympathetic smile, then patted his brother's shoulder. "So you aren't sure what you were even running from?" he questioned. Gilbert snorted behind him, muttering something that sounded a little like 'second round'.

"Right." Alfred confirmed, grinning wildly at Arthur. "Not a clue, but that's ok, cuz it was fun and junk anyways!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile back. If this night was anything to go by, the rest of the summer was going to be a lot of fun.

~.~

_I found out that I can see the total amount of people who click on my story. It's kinda weird, cuz I can see how many people there are, and also how many people are from different places. It was kinda cool, but a little freaky e3o. Anyways. I feel like I'm not settling into this story right. I think my writing is shaky and sort of... Eh.. Half assed. I mean, I'm trying, I really am, but it's just not.. Clicking. Oh well. I'll keep writing anyways, and maybe it'll click eventually. Review, darlings? _


	3. First Day

Alfred, Matthew, Gilbert and Arthur stayed up till the early morning hours. For a while, they played silly card games. Alfred was far too competitive for his own good, crowing "_BS!"_ at the top of his lungs as they played. Eventually, the counselors assigned to their cabin came into their side of the room and demanded they keep it down, _or else._

Arthur didn't know what "or else" implied, but his three companions seemed to take the threat very seriously, and silenced almost immediately. They settled for a quieter card game – Go Fish – and made Alfred sit out the first round so he could chill out. He had sulked for a while, but then gotten over it, peering over Arthur's shoulder as they played. He was allowed into the next round, after solemnly promising – and giving Matthew a pink-swear – that he would be as quiet as possible.

Over the course of the night, Arthur found that he had learned a lot about Alfred and Matthew. He learned that they liked to argue with each other. None of the arguments were serious, or of any meaning, and they were almost always over before they had started. Arthur thought it was incredibly funny, listening to the two. Alfred was loud about his opinion, making sure that they all knew exactly what it was. Matthew was much quieter about it, but it was still very clear and firm that this was, indeed, his opinion – about whatever – and he stubbornly stuck to it.

Around midnight, the other half of their cabin stumbled in. The counselors didn't even stop their snoring to recognize that they were here, but Alfred, Gilbert, Matthew, and Arthur did. The first half of the half came in, Antonio and Romano. Both were partly dressed, flushed red, with sticks and leaves tangled in their hair. Gilbert howled with laughter at the sight of them, and couldn't compose himself until they were safely out of sight on the other side of the cabin. Romano had cursed at the German thoroughly before being towed away by the grinning and waving Antonio.

Gilbert had wiped his eyes and grinned at Arthur and Alfred. Arthur suddenly realized his distorted comment of 'second round', and his face turned brilliant red, setting Gilbert off into another round of inane cackles. Alfred had a naively innocent look on his face, as he looked back and forth between the red-faced Brit and the laughing-so-hard-he-was-crying albino. Matthew rolled his eyes and smiled.

The second half had come in a little later, Feliciamo and Ludwig. Arthur was well acquainted with Ludwig, who was Gilbert's brother, and it was only obvious that the Italian – who introduced himself merely as Feli – was a certain Romano's sibling, possibly twin. Alfred gave the brother a friendly high five before Feli and Ludwig retired to bed, like their counterparts had done.

Matthew retired soon after, remarking that it was getting on towards lights out anyways. Gilbert soon followed, complaining that Arthur was boring his socks off and that Alfred was making his head hurt. Alfred, offended, but not really, had slugged the German in the shoulder with a grin, before allowing him to crawl under the covers. He was soon snoring loudly from the top bunk, easily drowning out Matthew's soft sighs of sleep.

Alfred wasn't sleepy, and neither was Arthur. They flipped off the over head lights – more to avoid the flood of bugs that flocked to it than to be considerate to their neighbors – and set Arthur's flashlight between the them. Arthur flopped onto his bunk and stared at the wood above his head, and Alfred collapsed quietly onto the floor with his head propped up on his still packed duffel bag.

"This is going to be a crazy summer." Arthur murmured finally, after a long silence between the two.

Arthur heard the scuffle of fabric moving, and he assumed that the American had nodded his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." was the quiet reply. "With Gil and Matty as part of our group, it's not surprising or nothin."

Arthur hummed lightly, and quiet settled over the two again. Frogs croaked outside, and the chorus of crickets swelled and faded rhythmically. Gilbert's snores had quieted a little, but not much. Arthur hummed again, before saying, "What time is breakfast tomorrow?"

Alfred snorted, amused by the question, and Arthur rolled over, peering over the edge of the bed to glare at him. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

Alfred grinned up at him, shaking his head. "Nothing." he replied. "It just seemed like a really random question, is all." Arthur could see the shape of his shoulders shrug in the soft shadow of the flashlight's beam. "And besides." he continued. "It seems like you would know. They gave us a camp packet an' all, with schedules and stuff. Didn't you read it?"

Arthur hummed lightly, thinking back. "I think they sent it to my parents, and didn't give me a copy." he mused, because he had absolutely no recollection of receiving any such package.

"Sure you didn't just not read it and misplace it?"

Arthur scoffed. "Of course not, dolt. All of my things are neat and in order."

Alfred chortled quietly. "Is that why you _refolded_ all of your shirts earlier?" he questioned. Arthur cold plainly hear the amusement in his tone, and rolled his eyes.

"At least _my_ clothes are put away." he retorted. "And not crammed under the bed, still jammed into my bag." he flipped back onto his back and stared at the dark wood above his head. A silence fell over the two, and only the night time noises reached their ears. Finally, Arthur said, "Since I didn't get a packet, will you tell me some of the information that I missed out on?"

"Yeah." Alfred replied, after a short pause. "I will. But not for long, cuz I think I'm about ready to hit the hay like Mattie and Gil." A yawn punctuated his point, and Arthur could hear his jaw cracking. "Sound good?"

"Yes, that's fine."

"Sorry if any of the stuff I'm telling you is repeat stuff that you already know. I'm just tellin you all the stuff Mattie told me, and stuff I remember from last year." Arthur settled his head on his pillow; the bedding was provided, so he hadn't had to pack his own. "Breakfast is at eight, I think, but it might be later than that, to nine thirty. Last year, John made it real clear that food was served till eight thirty only, and if you came in at nine you wouldn't be fed. He said the cooks were pissed at people coming in to eat so late."

"I don't blame them." Arthur muttered. He would dislike lateness if he were a cook here, too. But he disliked lateness in most anything. A wide yawn split his jaw, and his eyes slid shut as he listened to Alfred's voice go on.

"Then, I'm pretty sure we have, like, half an hour of free time to change or something. I forget the exact reason for it, but John insists that it's very important. I think we have an activity next, but the short one, not the long one. It's only an hour, not two hours like the one in the afternoon..."

Arthur yawned again, and he was finding it harder and harder to listen to Alfred clearly. The words began to blur together, and darkness overtook Arthur's mind...

"Arthur..."

...

"_Arrrthhuuurrr.._"

...

"Oh, Artie Kirkland."

...

"_ARTIE!"_

Arthur jerked upwards, smacking his forehead against something hard. "Ooow!" he groaned, collapsing back onto the pillow and pressing his palm to his brow, wincing.

"What the _fuck.._" someone groans from the ground, and Arthur rolls over to look at the figure on the floor. "What was that for?" Alfred demands, and Arthur can barely see the pout on his face in the dim light of the flashlight.

Arthur scowls right back. "You're the one yelling right in my ear!" he says, his hand still pressed to his forehead. "You were bloody asking for it, you moron!"

Alfred sits up and switched off the flashlight, leaving them in almost complete darkness. "Well, you could have told me you were falling asleep."

Arthur rolled his eyes, settling back onto his pillow as he felt, rather than saw, Alfred clamber up onto the top of the bunk bed, flopping ungracefully on the neatly made mattress, shaking the entire frame. "Careful there." Arthur murmured, his eyes slipping closed again. "Don't break it on the first night.."

There's a reply, but Arthur doesn't quite catch it as he slips into sleep.

~.~

Matthew's face is the first that Arthur sees the next morning. With a groan, his eyes slide open, and he peers blurringly into the violet eyes of his partner's twin. "Breakfast is in five minutes." Matthew says, straightening before he turns and rifles through one of the drawers that hold his clothing.

Arthur stumbles out of bed, glancing around sleepily. Alfred is still snoring away on the top bunk, and Gilbert doesn't look any more awake than he feels. Stumbling and fuzzy from sleep, he shakes Alfred awake, threatening half heartedly to push him out of bed, before he fumbles into clean clothing.

Alfred is up and half dressed when Arthur finally snaps into himself, awake enough to process full thoughts. He yawns and rubs his eyes, hoping that the cooks have tea or coffee or something for the campers set out. Matthew and Gilbert had already left, so Alfred and Arthur hurry out the door without a word.

The mess hall was only half full when Alfred and Arthur arrived; a small line was formed at the door to the kitchen, and every few seconds, a boy would come out an adjoining door with a full plate of steaming food in his hands. The pair hurried to get into line, and Arthur was glad to see they had a hot water and coffee machine on a table that was pressed to the wall in between the two doors.

They got their food – piles of golden eggs, three crisp and steamy waffles, bacon, toast and jelly – and went to sit with Matthew and Gilbert. Arthur went to get hot water and a tea bag before returning, munching on his bacon before as he let the tea steep. Not a single word was said as the four sat at the table pushed into the back corner of the mess hall as they stuff their faces. Arthur appreciated this; he always felt needless talk is the morning was exactly that. Needless.

Finally, after only the noises of forks scraping plates, chewing, and swallowing, Alfred threw down his fork and stretched his arms high above his head. "That was good." he said, lowering his arms and giving Arthur a wide grin.

Arthur grunted and sipped his tea. _Needless_. He thought to himself, scooping up his last bite of egg and pressing it into his mouth. Matthew, who was now uncomfortable with the silence, spoke up. "How did you sleep, Alfred?" he asked, setting his fork next to his plate. He had eaten significantly less than the other three, but Alfred and Gilbert didn't seem to notice.

"Good!" Alfred replied. "Once I got to sleep, that is. I mean, me and Artie stayed up a little later than you guys did."

Matthew nodded, and didn't seemed bothered by the fact that his twin didn't return the question. "Yes, I heard you talking. You're not as quiet as you think you are, Alfred." his smile was gentle, and teasing.

Alfred snorted. "Of course not. I can't ever be as quiet as you are."

Arthur yawned, and nearly cut in, when the high pitched squeal of a megaphone siren went off, causing him to wince and glare in the direction of John, standing at the doors of the mess hall.

"Good morning, campers!" he said, receiving disgruntled feedback from the megaphone for talking too loud. The squeaking noise caused Arthur to wince and cover one ear with his hand. High pitched noises were the bane of his existence, especially in the mornings. "I hope you all slept well last night, seeing as we have a full day of awesomeness ahead of us!"

Alfred let out a whoop, and Arthur glared at him. Alfred ruffled his hair with a good natured grin, murmuring, "Someone's not a morning person!" the Brit ducked from under the touch and turned his attention back to John.

"I'm just up here to give you a brief run down of the schedule before I free you to run like wild children through the activities. As most of you have figured out, breakfast is at eight and ends at nine thirty. Food will only be served from eight until eight thirty. If you are late, you will not eat. I hope that encourages you to be on time, but it probably doesn't." he grinned, then continued. "After breakfast, you have till ten to go change. This sounds silly to you early birds, but it's not uncommon for late risers to stumble in in their pajamas. At ten, you are expected to report to your assigned activity. The list will be up -" he pointed to the front doors of the mess hall. "- just outside those doors at promptly nine forty-five. It will tell you the title of your activity and where to go for it."

Alfred gave a silent fist pump, a look of pure delight on his face. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"This activity will be the shorter of the two activities that you will preform with your group every day. It will last from ten o'clock in the morning until eleven. You then have half an hour to clean up, if you have been assigned a messier project, and then report to the dining hall for lunch. Lunch will last from eleven thirty – which means food is stopped being served at noon – until one. At one is a non-mandatory rest period."

There was a chorus of groans from most of the boys in the mess hall.

"Calm yourselves." John retorted. "It's not mandatory. Later on in the months to come, it might become so, but for now, you all have enough boundless energy to bypass this time slot if you really want to. However, I know some of you will appreciate the hour of required silence. Also, I didn't mention this last night, I am allowing you to split up with your partner during this time, but only if one wants to rest and one wants to do something else. That will be the only exception."

Arthur was amused by the pout that had suddenly over taken Alfred's face, and gave him a cheeky grin when his blue eyes met his own green ones.

"That will only last until two thirty. Then, we will all meet at the lake for a chance to cool off. At four, your longer activity will begin. From four to six, you will do this activity, and at six thirty, dinner is served. Food will be available until seven, then you're out of luck. At eight thirty, after you are dismissed from the mess hall, we'll all meet at the fire ring just outside of your cabins to sing cheesy camp songs and have dessert." he smiled. "Everyone got that?"

The response was a deafening round of hoots and hollers.

"All right then! You're dismissed. Please check the schedule – up early today – before you head out to change or brush your teeth or whatever."

Boys flooded from the mess hall in mass exodus. Arthur could hear the yelps of excitement and scuffle of bodies as they fought over prime position to see the activity assignments. Alfred and Gilbert had taken off among the herd, leaving Matthew and Arthur sitting alone at the table.

Arthur gathered up his dishes, and Alfred's, and Matthew did the same for his own and Gilbert's. "Such children." Arthur muttered, deeming it a late enough hour for not needless speaking.

Matthew nodded in agreement as they set the dishes in the kitchen before they made their way outside to the disintegrating group of boys; having satiated their curiosity of what activity they would have today, they were slowly moving back towards the cabins. The two found Alfred and Gilbert standing off to the side.

Alfred had a huge pout on his face, and was glowering at the dirt. "Arts and Crafts!" he burst out, stomping his foot like a five year old. "Arts and freaking crafts! What the crap is that? How dumb is that!" he glared at Arthur, then at Matthew, then at Arthur again.

Matthew shrugged and said, "It's not that big a deal Alfred. You always liked it last year."

"It's so _girly_." Alfred whined, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. "Why do they have such a _girly_ activity at an all _guys _camp?" he demanded, still whining.

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It's not a big deal, Alfred. It's just for today."

"But _stilll."_ he groaned dramatically, his shoulders slumping dejectedly.

Gilbert slugged him in the shoulder, none too gently. "Quite whining, brattling." he said, his tone teasing and light. "We'll go do some arts and crafts. It's not a big deal."

Alfred scowled at him. "_Fine!_ But I'm still not happy about it."

Arthur just rolled his eyes and smiled.

~.~

Though Alfred complained vehemently about doing something so "not manly" as arts and crafts, he ended up having a lot of fun. His brother, who was so much more artsy and crafty than he was, showed him how to braid a bracelet ("Good gosh, Mattie, I know you look like a girl, but _this _is a little much, don't you think?"), Arthur showed him how to sew simple stitches ("You're worse than Matthew!"), and Gilbert showed him how to form a pot out of some multi-colored clay ("At least you aren't completely feminine."). Though he honestly found the activities his companions chose to do completely and totally not manly, it was interesting to see the things they liked, and the things they were good at.

"So you really, really like sewing, Arthur?" he asked curiously, watching as the smaller blond moved a needle in and out of a stretched piece of cloth quickly and smoothly.

Arthur hummed in response. "It's more of a hobby. I don't necessarily prefer it over other activities."

Alfred watched in amazement as the bright blue thread moved to make the vague shape of a butterfly, it's wings spread, at one corner of the taught fabric. "I'm not very good at anything artistic."

"It takes practice."

Alfred nodded and didn't say anymore as he watched those skillful and lithe fingers move. He had once watched his mom try and sew patterns into a piece of clothe. He had been a lot younger, and she was on some kind of sewing/knitting/crocheting kick. She had used a pattern on the back, and she had been extremely clumsy, stabbing her fingers every few moments, using the wrong color thread, or missing where she was supposed to stick the needle next. In comparison, Arthur was a pro.

Alfred was snapped out of his thoughts when the counselor who was supposed to be supervising them looked up from his book and said, "Ten more minutes." his nose promptly reentered the pages of what looked to be a porn novel.

Arthur glanced up, asking, "Can I take the thread I need to finish with me?"

There was only a grunt in response.

Alfred watched as Arthur began sewing again. The butterfly was really taking shape now, it's wings full curves with soft designs across the edges...

A hand smacked the back of his head suddenly, and he jumped with a yelp. Gilbert was standing behind him, cackling maniacally. Alfred jumped to his feet. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his scalp with a wince.

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "It's time to go, _mor-on._" he said, pointing to the door. "You were so wrapped up in staring at that _girly -" _he winked at Arthur, who was standing now, pressing rolls of thread and a package of needles into his pocket. "- project."

Alfred glared at him, then glanced at Arthur, who had his arms crossed over his chest. The Brit smirked at him. "For all your ranting about how silly arts and crafts are, you sure enjoyed watching me sew."

Alfred stuck his tongue out at his partner and stalked out the door. It was nice to be out of the stuffy Arts and Crafts cabin – located near the extra cabins that the cooks slept in (and definitely _not _the haunted cabin located elsewhere) – and feel the fresh air on his skin. It was hot out, but a cool breeze fluttered the leaves of the trees. Arthur came out after him, then Matthew and Gilbert.

"We should run back to the cabin before we go to the mess hall." Arthur told him. "At least so that I may drop off the thread and things."

Alfred nodded in agreement.

Gilbert spoke. "Me and Mattie are gonna go see if we can find Francis and Toni. See what they had for activity. Mk?"

Alfred and Arthur both nodded, and the two pairs went their separate ways. Arthur and Alfred walked in silence for a while, down the path that connected the two cabin groups. Gilbert and Matthew had taken the path that lead directly to the mess hall.

"So. Sewing." Alfred begins, giving Arthur a curious look.

The blond easily read his look, and replied, "My grandmother always loved sewing. She gave me lessons when I was six, and I couldn't help but like it. She tried to teach my brother, but..." something dark flashed across Arthur's eyes. ".. he's nothing like me."

Alfred was surprised. "You have a brother?" he asked as they entered the ring of cabins.

Arthur completely ignored him, walking a little faster and entering their cabin first. He deposited his thread, needles and part-finished project on his bed and turned. Alfred studied him, concern in his eyes, but Arthur just stuck his tongue out and said, "Lunch?"

~.~

_Sllloooowwwwwwwww. Slow, slow, slow, slow. It's starting out so slowly, I'm sorry.. I apologize profusely, but I promise that in the next chapter it will pick up. Leave a comment pretty please? I made it so you can anonymously review, so =3 _

_This is horribly, half-assed edited. Dammit, I still haven't found my rhythm. Have I told you that I usually only write really, really emotional, angsty shit? I do. And most of that is exceptional. However, I flat out suck ballz at this... Normal. Stuff. Kasdnfasdofiasdnf; /shot_


	4. Too lazy to think of a decent title

Lunch was a quiet affair. Or as quiet as could be expected for a lunch with two maniacs like Gilbert and Alfred. Alfred managed to spill his lemonade – twice – and Gilbert had a habit of talking with his mouth full, making both Matthew and Arthur wince. Arthur could feel himself growing more and more tired as he tried to coral the two into _civilized _behavior, only to fail time after time.

"Stop swinging your hands around when you talk, and maybe you wouldn't knock your glass over so much." Arthur said irritably as he mopped up the second batch of lemonade to coat their table.

Alfred pouted at him as he pressed a batch of paper towels to the spill. "It's not my fault! It's Gilbert's!"

The albino snorted as he lifted his plate out of he flow of liquid. "How is this even vaguelymy fault? You're the one practicing your batting at the lunch table." he laughed at his own joke.

Arthur sent a round of glares at the two, then responded, "Just keep your limbs still when you speak and we won't have this problem!" he gathered the sopping paper towels and walked to deposit them in a nearby trash can before returning. "For god's sake, Alfred." he grumbled, sitting down hard and stuffing a bite of chicken patty into his mouth.

Alfred pursed his lips and glared, and, in a rare fit of rage, snapped, "Yeah, fine, since you're so _perfect,_ Arthur."

Their eyes met, and the hurt registered in Arthur's eyes until it flashed away, replaced by a cold stoic look. "Fine." was the chilled response. "If that's what you think." he stood, scooping up his fork, knife, and plate before stalking away to violently scrape his scraps into the trash can. He banged his plate down so hard on the table for dirty dishes that Alfred could hear it from where they sat.

Gilbert winced and gave a sympathetic glance at Alfred. "_Dam_, man. Good luck surviving on Arthur's shit list. He's fucking scary when he's pissed."

Alfred grimaced, watching as the clearly angry Brit walked back to the table. He thumped down hard in his seat next to Alfred, staring intensely at the scarred wooden table before him.

"Uh... Artie.."

"Don't talk to me."

Alfred drooped noticeably. Matthew opened his mouth to say something to try and break the tension, but he was interrupted by John speaking through the megaphone. "All right, kids, you're dismissed from the mess hall. Please check your afternoon activity before you go back to your cabins. If you aren't going to rest, remember to keep quiet out of respect for those who are!" a surge of boys flooded past him, and he shouted after them, "Stay away from the lake!"

Arthur was in the crowd of boys surging past him, heading deliberately for his cabin. Alfred followed behind him slower, shoulders slouched as he stared pensively at the back of his partner's head. He hadn't meant to snap at Arthur, naturally, but he really had been over reacting a little about spilled lemonade. Seriously, it wasn't that big of a deal, but..

He caught Arthur glancing over his shoulder at him, hurt present in his green eyes before he snapped his head back around. Alfred suddenly realized something. _He didn't mean to overreact either._ He thought to himself. _And now that he did and realizes he did... He wants to apologize. But he doesn't know how, huh?_ A grin split his face at this thought.

_I guess I'll just have to help him out!_ He determined to himself, quickening his pace to catch up to Arthur.

"Hey Arrthuuurrr." he said, voice lilting as he wrapped one arm around the boy's shoulders.

Gilbert, on the other side of Arthur, and Matthew, on the other side of Gilbert, both gave him curious looks. Arthur tugged out from under his arm, glaring at him. "I _said_ don't talk to me." he snarled, not meeting Alfred's eyes.

Alfred didn't let himself be deterred by this cold rejection. Instead, he pulled a complicated wrestling move he had seen. He stepped behind Arthur, placed his hands on the boy's slim hips, flipped him around to face Alfred, then slung him over his shoulder, securing him there with one arm wrapped firmly around his waste, and the other pressing his knees to his chest.

Arthur didn't have a chance to react as he was shouldered by the much bigger boy, and could only manage a muffled gasp and indignant squeak as he was hauled up. When he was settled firmly on the harsh expanse of shoulder, his butt propped in the air and his front hanging down a long back, he had a chance to protest. And protest he did, loudly, yelping and pounding into the broad back before him.

"Put me down, you big fat fucking lug!" he shouted, trying to kick his feet against the firm grip over his knees. "This is bloody embarrassing! _Put me down!"_

"Nope!" his captor told him. "Not till you accept my apology!" Arthur's face flushed, and it was hard to tell if it was embarrassment or if it was merely the fact that he was upside down.

Arthur scrabbled to push himself up, his hands slipping on the fabric of Alfred's shirt. Alfred starting walking, a bouncing, trotting gate, and Arthur couldn't balance himself up right well enough. He seemed absolutely unaffected by the insistent pounding on his back.

"Alfred fucking Jones, put me down right _now_ damnit!"

Alfred laughed and turned in a quick circle, leaving Arthur dizzy and clinging to the fabric of his shirt, before trotting onwards. "I told you. Not till you accept my apology."

"You shouldn't even be apologizing to me! I should be apologizing to you!" by the quick intake of breath and the sudden stillness of the boy over his shoulder, Alfred deduced that he hadn't actually meant to say that.

Alfred grinned in triumph and carefully slung the Brit down, setting his feet on the ground and smiling. "Oh really?" he asked.

Arthur nervously fixed his shirt, tugging it down while he stared at the ground, his face flushing red. "S-sure." he grumbled, refusing to meet Alfred's eyes.

Alfred waited. A long moment of silence passed.

"I'm sorry."

Alfred nearly tackled his partner, scooping him up in a walloping hug, crushing the smaller boy to his chest as he spun in a fast circle before releasing him. Arthur stumbled, confusion on his face. He fell against Matthew, standing a few paces away, who easily caught him and steadied him.

Alfred was grinning wildly, looking incredibly pleased with himself. "I'm sorry, too!" he exclaimed, but Arthur got the feeling he wasn't really very sorry. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Arthur scowled at the ground. How incredibly embarrassing, being picked up like a child. "... Can I go sleep now?" he asked, trying to will the heat in his cheeks to go away.

"Yep!" Alfred chirped, trotting ahead. "Absolutely!"

Arthur didn't say another word as the four made their way back to the cabin, and gladly collapsed into his bed. He was asleep almost immediately, leaving only Alfred, Gilbert, and Matthew awake in their otherwise empty cabin.

"I'm impressed with you, Alfred." Gilbert told him from the doorway to their half of the cabin. "I don't think I've ever heard that prick apologize." He said the word 'prick' with fondness in his voice. "Though, I have to admit, your methods are a little..." he grinned mischievously, leaving the sentence hanging in the air.

Alfred stuck his tongue out at the albino. "Well, obviously I just know Arthur better than you know him."

Gilbert shook his head. "I doubt that." he said, then turned away, waving over his shoulder. "I'm off. Gonna see if I can catch Toni and that Italian in the middle of a fuck." he grinned and left, the screen door of the cabin slamming behind him.

That left only Alfred and Matthew awake. It was obvious by the way that Matthew was curling on his bed that he intended to stay and rest. Alfred scowled at his twin, but the other just raised a slim eyebrow. "Go find Gilbert. I'm sure he'll entertain you in some way." with this, the blond flopped back onto his bunk and closed his eyes.

With a pout and a scowl at his partner and then at his brother, Alfred left the cabin, slumping his way back down the trail. He saw a lot of people were in their cabins; most of them talking and laughing, not sleeping. "Such _lame_ partners..." he grumbled to himself as he walked down the path towards the mess hall. He had no idea where Gilbert would be, despite Matthew's suggestion.

The path he walked on was completely empty. It seemed as though everyone had chosen to go back to the cabins. He didn't see another person until he reached the mess hall, where he found three boys crouching in the dirt under a tree off to the side. He wandered over, recognizing one of his football companions. He crouched down next to him, and had to search his mind for his name before he said, "Hey, Jake."

Jake was Australian, and still had a pronounced accent despite the fact that he had lived in America for several years. He gave Alfred a short glance and replied, "'Owdie, mate."

The two other boys in the circle were people that Alfred only vaguely recognized. He assumed they had been to camp before, but hadn't played a huge role in Alfred's experience. One was a broad, light haired, purple eyed boy. He studied Alfred quietly, and it sent cold shivers up his spine. He was kind of just a little creepy. He had a light purple scarf wrapped around his neck, even though it was too hot for it.

The last boy didn't even send Alfred a second glance, and he was glad for it. He was small, lithe, with dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin.

"This is Ivan, and that is Ray." Jake told him, pointing respectively. Ivan was still staring at him bluntly, eyes running over his face, trying to catch his eye.

_You're creeping me out._ Alfred thought mentally, not bothering to look the other in the eye. Something chilled and heavy settled at the base of his spine, and his guard went up.

"You are paired with Arthur Kirkland, are you not?"

Alfred felt himself tense. "That's right." he replied, watching as Ray drew delicate designs in the dust.

Ivan hummed quietly, and Alfred couldn't help but compare it to the hums that left Arthur's throat so often. There was something so incredibly different between those two similar noises.

"He is new, is he not?" Ivan asked, glancing at Jake before returning his stare to Alfred. "To camp. Is there no such thing as initiation anymore?"

Jake shrugged. "Eh. More and more newbies are coming, and less and less old ones to initiate them." he muttered in response, pulling his wide brimmed cowboy hat lower over his eyes.

"We should restart that tradition." Ivan said, and Alfred finally looked up to meet his eyes. Cold purple met warm blue, and Alfred shivered. He suddenly had a bad feeling gnawing at the pit of his stomach, but he ignored it. Instead, he chose to accept the challenge that was put forth by those eyes.

"How would we do that?" he asked, never breaking eye contact. He felt his utter competitiveness well up in him, and he knew he had to win.

Ivan smiled. "We should initiate some of the new ones that we have been blessed with, of course."

"How do you propose we do that?" Ray was interested in the conversation now, light flickering in his eyes at the sound of possible mischief.

"We should start with Arthur..."

Alfred ignored the uncomfortable itch in the back of his mind.

~.~

Arthur only managed to sleep for half an hour before he awoke with a start. Gilbert had entered the cabin, being loud and obnoxious, with Francis, Antonio, and Lovino at his side. He was telling a joke as he entered, tromping over to their side of the cabin. Through bleary eyes, he watched as the albino flopped onto Matthew's bed, waking the smaller boy as the sudden increase in weight bounced him upwards.

"Gilbert, you asshole.." Matthew groaned as he tried to burrow into his pillow. "I'm tryin' to sleep, damnit."

Gilbert just laughed and said, "Common! Francis and Toni came to see us and everything! The least you could do is wake up and be sociable.

"For Pete's sake, Gil, I was freaking sleeping." Matthew grumbled, flipping over and making a rude hand gesture at the other three in the room.

Francis just laughed, and came over to plop down next to Arthur. "Get off my bed, frog." Arthur growled, scooting away and sitting up. He pushed at Francis with the heel of his foot.

Francis pouted at him, shaking his head. "Don't be rude, _Angleterre." _he turned his attention to Antonio, who was force snuggling Romano on the floor, his back pressed to one of the dressers. "Now back to the original question that I posed, Toni. How _did _you find someone so..." he grinned at Romano, mischief dancing in his eyes. "Charming."

"You're a fucking asshole, frenchie, so why don't you shut the fuck up, you freaking...!" a hand clapped over the Italian's mouth and Antonio grinned at Francis.

"Oi, you know me, Francis." he winked.

Francis opened his mouth to respond when Alfred entered. They all greeted him with varying states of enthusiasm. Arthur didn't greet him at all. He was face down in his pillow, willing the annoyances that had invaded his rest time to go away. Of course, they didn't, and the noise just escalated with a certain American in the room. Even pressing a pillow over his ears didn't dim the silence.

Finally, annoyed that he wouldn't be getting any more sleep, he sat up tiredly, and joined in on the conversation. It was only for a short amount of time, because the others had to disperse to change into swim suits, but it was still rather interesting. Arthur couldn't be annoyed, not really, when he was surrounded by such... odd, for lack of a better word, characters.

Matthew and Gilbert, who were both eager to get to the lake, had stripped, dressed and practically sprinting out the door. Matthew had caught the hyper-bug from the others, and couldn't stop giggling. Arthur was incredibly thankful for the silence that followed as the other vacated.

Alfred was already pulling on his swim trunks, his back to Arthur. The Brit grinned, amused by the floral pink, orange and blue pattern. It was very Alfred.

He forced the grin off his face when the other turned around. "You aren't even naked yet!" Alfred yelped. "Aren't ya gonna swim?"

Arthur shook his head. "No." he replied. "I plan to read a book in the shade."

"Common." Alfred said, waving his hand dismissively. "You don't come to camp to read a freaking _book_, man. That's just jank!"

"'Jank' is hardly a word." Arthur retorted. "And I can do as I please. No where does it say that I absolutely have to swim."

Alfred shook his head, a pout forming on his face. "You're not any fun at all!"

"Thank you."

He deflated, brow furrowing together as he had a mild glaring contest with his partner. Finally, he surrendered, shrugging and saying, "All right, all right. Whatever floats your boat and mellows your yellow and all that."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "'Mellows my yellow'?" he asked.

"Yeah! You haven't heard the saying before?"

Arthur shook his head. "It's something only Americans would come up with."

Alfred was not the least bit offended by this. He pulled out sunscreen from his still unpacked bag and began slathering it on himself in enormous heaps. "So, Artie."

Arthur winced at the name.

"I really am sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have snapped at you or anything. And then for embarrassing you in front of everyone by picking you up." he grinned. "Though I really can't say I'm one hundred percent sorry for that one."

Arthur shook his head, trying to will his cheeks not to get hot (they did anyways), and said, "I already told you, you're not the one who needed to apologize."

Alfred grinned. "Yeah, yeah. Despite that, Arthur, can we be friends?"

Arthur was surprised, and he knew it showed on his face. "Aren't we already friends?" he asked.

Alfred shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. But, I dunno, I wanted to make it official and stuff." he held out a hand, grinning broadly at his companion. "So. Friends?"

Arthur met the other blond's eyes for a moment, then stood, shaking his head and murmuring. "You're the strangest person I have ever met." he took Alfred's hand, noting that it was slimy with sun screen, and shook it.

He couldn't help but return the warm smile that was given to him.

~.~

_Ivan's gonna be the bag guy for this story. Sorry guys. I can't help it. Love Russia, love Ivan, but I love him so much cuz he's so flippin creepy. Common, even you Ivan fanchildren cannot deny the fact that he's _creepy_. So yeah._

_Also, Arthur's is gonna have a rough back ground, which will be revealed in... Two, maybe three chapters. Also, we're gonna hit some angsty crap soon [LOL want that explanation, flip to my profile]._

_It's almost midnight here. Waaaaaayyyy past my bedtime. Forgive me, I'm going to be lazy and sleep and not edit this. _

_It's shorter than normal. _

_I don't think I'm talking in complete sentences anymore. Night yall. Leave a shiny new review for me please? _


	5. So much for 'friend'

The beach was not something that Arthur considered a good time. He burned too easily in the overbearing sun, and water in large bodies was something he tried to stay away from in general. He found himself huddling under a tree with his book while his companions played and splashed in the water. Of course, not all of them swam, but he was the only one who opted to stay in the shade.

The book he was reading was one of the six he had brought with him; all of them were books that he adored, and could read over and over again, if need be. He easily buried himself in the familiar passageways of story, the characters that he had fallen in love with enveloping him with each word. He always amazed himself when he fell into a story so deeply that he barely noticed anything around him, but sometimes it was nice to lose himself.

Arthur didn't pull out of that fantasy place that was carded deep inside of his mind until his book was practically _wrenched_ from his hand. He couldn't react for a moment, staring at the place where words once were, before rage overtook him. He jumped up, snatching his book back from Alfred, who was grinning at him like a buffoon. "You idiot!" he snapped, glaring in dismay at the wet fingerprints on the well-worn pages. "You're going to ruin it!"

Alfred shook his head. "I won't ruin it. It's not like I'm jumping into the water with it."

Matthew came up beside Alfred, Gilbert behind him. "That was rude, Alfred. I know he wasn't responding, but you didn't have to take his book."

Arthur stared at him blankly. "I didn't respond to what?"

Alfred snickered. "I was calling your name for like, ten minutes, bro. Gilbert _mooned_ you, and you still didn't move."

Arthur pursed his lips and glared at Gilbert, and received a shrug and a grin in return. Arthur wouldn't put it past himself to be so completely absorbed in a book to not notice things like that.

"Anyways." Alfred abruptly changed subject. "The group swim and crap is over, so we came to see if you wanted to move towards where our activity swim is going to be."

"It's not at the same place?" Arthur inquired, confused.

"Nope!" Alfred chirped. "This place is so much cooler than boring old -" he gestured to the expanse of sandy beach and lake water. " - this." he finished. "There's a rock we can jump off of, and a rope swing, and..."

Matthew cut him off. "We're going to be late if we don't start walking."

"Right, right!" Alfred agreed, and immediately began trotting away, disappearing down a nearly invisible trail in the foliage to their left. Gilbert followed right after, but Matthew waiting for Arthur, who stood up, dusted himself off and began walking.

Gilbert and Alfred were far ahead of them by the time they started on the path to the other part of the lake for swimming. Arthur could tell from the energetic yells he heard ahead that were slowly fading away that the two had turned walking into a race. Arthur was glad that Matthew was content to just walk, like he was.

"So how do you like camp so far?" Matthew ventured after a few moments, long after the yells of Gilbert and Alfred had faded.

Arthur shrugged. "It's all right." he said. "It's... High energy." he hadn't even been here for a full day of organized camp activity, so he really didn't feel as though he could put an accurate judgment on his experience or what he felt for the camp. "It's different from school."

Matthew's lips quirked in a small smile. "Well, yes, there would be a difference."

Arthur shot him a glare and said, "Don't be smart, you know what I meant."

His laugh was light a lilting, and Arthur smiled despite himself. "I think it's a good camp." Matthew continued, answering his own question. "It's always nice to meet other boys from our companion-school."

Arthur nodded in agreement. He had indeed enjoyed meeting Matthew and Alfred. He hadn't really met many of the other boys from the other campus yet, but he figured that he would by the end of camp.

The two walked in silence the rest of the way, both stepping carefully over the overgrown weeds that tumbled into their path. It was obvious to Arthur that this path had not been well maintained, as the other paths had been. He was curious as to what they were really going to. He had noticed that Alfred had a tendency to over exaggerate just a little, so his excitement might be unjustified.

Arthur soon found out that this cove that they were swimming in really was something to get excited about. After walking for ten minutes down a path that twisted and turned and left Arthur direction disoriented, he and Matthew stepped into a wide clearing made of rock. Gilbert and Alfred were nowhere in sight, but Arthur could here splashing and yelling from below the lip of the clearing, which was actually a cliff.

Curious, he trotted over the edge and peered down, immediately feeling sick at how hight it was. Thirteen feet below was the lake, Alfred and Gilbert already in it. Arthur glanced around in horror, and found that a long branch of a tree jutted out over the edge of the cliff, and a rope had been tied onto it.

Matthew came up next to him, and seemed to notice the disturbed look on Arthur's face. "Don't worry." he said, patting the Brit's shoulder in what was meant to be a reassuring way. "The counselors always come down here to check for stray logs and things in the water, so none of us kill ourselves jumping."

Arthur found that he was hardly comforted at all by this, and watched in dim fright as Matthew pulled the rope to him, pulled back as far as it would go and took a running leap over the edge, clinging to the rope before he launched off of it, dropping like a rock into the water below. The rope swung innocently back and forth before settling back into place.

_I will _never_ do something so stupid._ Arthur vowed to himself, pulling away from the edge and settling himself under a tree to read. The rope was hardly safe, and who was to say that the branch it was attached to would hold? What if something like a waterlogged branch had floated into the vicinity and someone jumped onto it? It probably wasn't as dangerous as Arthur was making it out to be, but he was known at school for being a worry wart and paranoid. The thought of jumping off a cliff was just not appealing to him.

A few moments after he was settled with his book, the counselor who was supposed to be supervising them tromped onto the clearing, grinning broadly. He waved at Arthur, not even bothering to open his mouth in greeting before he took off at a run and launched himself over the edge, yelling, "Look out below!"

_Stupid._ Arthur thought in disgust. _Stupid, stupid, stupid! _What if Alfred or Gilbert or Matthew had been where this supposed counselor was going to land? They would have gotten severely hurt! Good gosh, this place was an accident waiting to happen. Maybe he was paranoid, but at least he didn't get hurt.

Arthur spent the next two hours much like he spent the previous, deeply involved with his book. He tried to keep himself at least somewhat in the present, however, and made himself glance up when each one of his companions came up a trail that he assumed started below somewhere to jump off.

Alfred paused once, a curious expression on his face, as he asked, "Aren't you bored?"

Arthur looked up, eyebrow raised pensively. "Not at all. Why?"

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno. I always thought books were boring."

Arthur scoffed. "Obviously, you have not read a decent book."

A smirk was all he received as Alfred gripped the rope and took a running leap. "Look out below!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and returned to his book. After a long while, all four of the boys swimming below tromped up the path. Of the four, only Matthew had had the brains to bring a towel, which made Arthur want to smack his hand to his face. Who went swimming without a towel? He settled for rolling his eyes and following dripping wet Alfred, Gilbert and somewhat dry Matthew up the path. The counselor told them to go on ahead, that he would catch up with them, and Arthur had a sneaking suspicion that he planned on using the rope swing one more time, possibly in a more dangerous way than previously.

Alfred chatted happily as they walked, posing rhetorical questions such as, "I wonder what's for dinner?" and "What are we doing tomorrow?" None of the other three responded, and the tall boy seemed content to just listen to his own voice. Arthur found that he liked this kind of quiet companionship; where someone could talk on and on, but not really expect anyone to respond.

He laughed at himself mentally. It was a silly thought, most definitely, even if he found that he truly did enjoy it.

~.~

Dinner went by quickly, with no more mishaps as there had been at lunch, and then the entire group of campers and counselors trooped to the fire ring, where a fire was crackling away. Arthur appreciated how different the flickering light made the cabins look, and how it was almost mystical. He watched the fire, with its intense oranges and greens and blues. Fire always amazed him, how it had a life of its own.

He hadn't realized that he had slipped off into some deep part of his mind until Alfred touched his shoulder and leaned in the whisper, "Wanna go see that old craft building?" he murmured in Arthur's ear, jerking him into the present.

Arthur stared at him for a moment, surprised. "I thought..." he said, speaking normally, but shushed his own voice at the look he received. "I thought you said yesterday that you didn't really want to go there." he whispered, finishing his sentence.

Alfred glanced over his shoulder, to where Matthew and Gilbert were talking loudly with Francis and Antonio, the other's partners hovering nearby. "I usually don't." was his response. "But I'm kind of curious now."

Arthur wasn't sure why, but a suspicious tingle started at the base of his spine. His first thought was honestly that he didn't want to do it, that'd he rather stay here by the fire, but...

Arthur glanced over Alfred's shoulder at their companions, then whispered. "All right."

It was surprisingly easy for the two to sneak away; the counselors couldn't have cared less, and their companions didn't even look up from their loud chattering. Somehow, though, Arthur wasn't surprised by this. The camp seemed very lax on rules in general.

Alfred seemed oddly quiet as they walked, but Arthur didn't comment as he followed the bigger boy down seemingly endless dark trails. That incredibly spooky feeling came over Arthur as he glanced around at the shadows that covered them, but he ignored it.

~.~

Alfred felt guilty. Guilty, guilty, guilty. He was leading Arthur through the dark, towards a craft cabin, where his utter _doom_ awaited him.

Ok, so doom was a little strong, but Alfred still felt guilty. He had made Ivan and Jack and Ray promise not to hurt Arthur any, and they had promised that they would only scare him a _little._ Or, at least, that's what Alfred remembered about the conversation. He had been having a heated glaring contest with Ivan, so a few of the details might have been during the course of it all, but...

Alfred glanced at Arthur, but his partner's face was covered in shadow and he couldn't see it clearly. Guilt nipped at him again, and he forced himself to look away. _How could you._ He chastised himself. _And you call yourself his friend._ Alfred was really good at making himself feel guilty. They didn't stop walking though, and he didn't say anything.

The path went up steeply, and soon the crest of the hill came into view, revealing a moon-bathed cabin. It really was creepy, and Alfred felt a cold shudder run up his spine. What with the overgrown weeds, long shadow, dark, gaping, mouth-like holes for windows... Alfred had to stop himself right then and there, or he would chicken out before they even made it to the doorway.

The two mutually paused just beyond the gaping doorway; its door had long since rotted or been ripped away. "Well?" Arthur suddenly muttered hoarsely, and Alfred could see his green eyes glimmer in the darkness.

Alfred steeled himself, and stalked into the darkness beyond.

~.~

Arther followed Alfred into the cabin, and his nose wrinkled at the smell of rot. It was clear that this cabin had not been used for crafts in years. He stopped for a moment, trying to allow his eyes adjust, but it was almost impossible in the complete darkness. Alfred stumbled forward, and cursed lightly when he tripped over some unseen object.

Arthur moved forward, asking, "Are you..." he was suddenly cut off by a pair of hands grasping him, one over his mouth and the other tightly around his wrist. He was tugged backwards, off balance, and fell to the ground. He was surprised to find that the flooring was concrete, and he felt skin scraping off his elbow.

Then there were hands all over him, grabbing him, groping him, dragging him to some unseen hell-hole. His adrenaline starting pumping, and he reacted without thinking, arms and legs striking out as he tried to yell for help. Something rough was stuffed into his mouth, some sort of fabric, instantly halting his attempts at screaming. He choked, and thrashed wildly.

"You are a very beautiful boy, Arthur..." came the murmur in his ear, and sudden, unbidden terror lanced through his body. His mind flashed back frantically, pulling together pieces of a long pushed away memory, of a person, a face, a voice, a sneer, probing fingers and hands and a mouth forcing itself over his, those exact words being crooned into his ear...

He fought harder, suddenly entrapped in his own memory instead of in the present. His blood pounded through his veins, and he thrashed wildly. He vaguely registered his foot connecting with something solid and a yelp of pain. He managed to pull himself away from the remaining hands, who loosened considerably on him, and stumbled away in the darkness, before he hit a wall and collapsed to the floor. There, he curled up on himself, yanking the clothe from his mouth, as terrified shudders wracked his body and tears curled down his cheeks. He couldn't move, he couldn't feel, he couldn't _breath..._

Beyond his personal panic attack were loud voices, yelling at each other.

"What the hell was that? You said you wouldn't hurt him!" the sound of flesh hitting flesh, and a short scuffle.

"Learn to read the atmosphere, you fucker." more scuffling noises.

Arthur slowly pulled himself together, forcing the dark memories away and pulling himself to the now. His breathing slowed, and his heart beat didn't race as fast. His mind came down off of its roaring, terrified high, and he was left with the taste of blood and panic in his mouth.

"You promised!"

"I don't keep promises, little boy."

Arthur shivered, and listened to the noises around him, composing himself mentally. He didn't allow himself to assess the situation, though, because he knew it would only lead to another spiraling panic attack.

"You brought him here, so you shouldn't be blaming.."

"Shut the fuck up, Jake!"

Arthur sat up slowly, wiping his face with the back of his hand. It was still dark, very dark, but he could make out vague shapes. Two shadows were standing in the doorway of the side room he had been dragged into, both seeming content to stay out of the range of fists that were in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, Jones, you brought him here. What did you expect, some kind of fucking welcome party? You're so fucking stupid."

"_Shut up_!"

Arthur rose to his feet, pressing the back of his hand to his nose. He could feel blood trickling from it, and wondered when that had happened. He couldn't remember hitting his nose...

Then it dawned on him, clearing the fogginess that still wrapped around his mind. Alfred had brought him here. It all made sense. Alfred had _brought him here. _And it was apparent that he knew these others – whoever they were – would be here, waiting for him, intent on...

Arthur wasn't actually sure what the intentions of the other three had been, but it was apparent that a well placed foot of his own had ended those plans. He was suddenly very grateful for whatever fighting skill he possessed.

"You knew?" he heard the words slip from his mouth, but didn't fully realize the anger that bubbled behind them yet. Things were slipping into place slowly, slower than he wished they would. It was like a train, going full speed ahead, his anger was, when it struck him. "You _knew?"_ these words were spat, full anger and hate behind them. There was a pause between the other four boy's malicious conversation, and one of them stumbled towards him.

"Arthur, are you ok? I was really worried, I couldn't see anything and..."

Rage blinded Arthur's good sense. He stepped forward and _shoved_ the shadowy boy coming towards him. He knew it was Alfred, and was delightfully sickened when the boy hit the floor hard. "Don't." Arthur was amazed at how angry he sounded. "Talk to me." these words were nothing like earlier, said with only mild annoyance. They were said with conviction, bordering on pure hatred. "I don't want to see your face, Alfred fucking Jones. Don't talk to me. Ever. Again." with this, he strode out of the room, and pushed past the two shapes in the doorway.

How he got out of the building without tripping over something, he wasn't completely sure, but he made it. As he stumbled down the path towards the mess hall, the entire situation dawned on him.

Alfred had taken him to the abandoned craft shed with the intention of getting him _raped._

He started shaking, and had to lean against at tree to keep his knees from buckling. He took in a shuddering breath, and released it, closing his eyes.

_To think._ He thought. _Just earlier, Alfred proclaimed us 'friends'._ Arthur was disgusted by this. How could he? What kind of decent human being would _do _something like that?

Arthur straightened himself and started walking again. He reached his cabin soon, and passed by Matthew and Gilbert, who were still at the camp fire chatting with Francis and Antonio. He strode past them, letting the cabin door slam shut, stripped off his pants and dove into bed. He pretended to be asleep when Alfred came in, and ignored the other boy's attempts at apologizing.

~.~

_hahahahahaha, angsty crap tralalala. I feel so much better now, and I think that the latter half of this chapter was so much better than the first half e.o. Maybe I just prefer angst, but eehh. Whatever. _

_So yeah. I feel like I updated this really late, but it's only been about a week. _

_Also, Alfred's view on what happened will come in the next chapter. Too tired right now to write it. _

_Sorry, I didn't edit it again. /shot_

_Ok! Update, then bed. Bye bye._

_Leave a shiny review? Pretty please? Enough have you have subscribed so.. Please ;D? /begs_


	6. Seriously I'm Lazy and Bad at Titles

_I am such a moron._ Alfred couldn't help but think that over and over again as he trudged back to the fire ring. He had been told that he was a bit of a stupid person by a lot of people in his life time, but this was the first time that he believed it for himself. He cringed, and swiped a hand over his mouth. Ivan had clocked him good and split his lip, and it was still bleeding. He didn't care about himself all that much, at the moment, though, and was really only concerned with Arthur.

How could he have been so _stupid?_ The entire escapade was a blur to him, but he remembered clearly the terror in his friend's voice in that first yell for help. He assumed that Arthur's mouth had been taped or stuffed shut at this point, because he only heard quiet whimpers and muffled yells after. He had yanked himself up off the floor so fast that he fell into the wall, but he didn't pause, didn't hesitate. He stumbled towards the noises he could here, along to wall, until he came to a side room. He could see there shapes on the floor, dimly in the moonlight, and what he saw didn't make him happy.

It didn't make him happy at all.

He was preparing himself to lunge in and fight the three boys apparently attacking Arthur – this part was smudged in his brain though; he couldn't remember if there was one on him and two to the side, or two on him and one to the side or... - when Arthur, who had been struggling against the hands gripping him, managed some well-placed punch or kick. One of the boys on him – all three? Two? Alfred was still at loss – stumbled back, groaning and clutching his face.

The small form of Arthur wriggled out of the remaining hands, and stumbled away, into a darkened shadow of the room. Alfred heard him gag dryly, but he didn't hear much else as he acted. He launched himself at the closest figure.

"What the.." Alfred slammed Ivan to the ground, effectively cutting off what he was going to say.

There was a struggle for power, and Alfred growled lividly, "What the hell was that? You said you wouldn't hurt him!" he landed a solid kick to Ivan's side.

The other gasped and rolled away from him, spatting out, "Learn to read the atmosphere, fucker!"

Alfred jumped forward, landing square on Ivan's chest. The other boy easily rolled them over so their positions were reversed, and took the opportunity of the upper-hand to land a hard hit across Alfred's face, effectively blackening his eye and splitting his lip.

"Learn to keep your promises!" Alfred shoved Ivan off and scooted away, jumping to his feet. Wrestling was not his sport.

"I don't have to." Ivan pulled himself up also and lunged.

"Yes you do! You promised!" Alfred pulled aside at the last moment, and Ivan stumbled past him.

"I don't keep promises, little boy."

Alfred dodged another fist, and felt his lower lip jut out in a pout. This kid had no sense of hero awesomeness! Seriously!

"You brought him here, so you shouldn't be blaming.." Jake, who had retreated to the door of the room with Ray, started, but Ivan abruptly cut him off.

"Shut the fuck up, Jake!"

Alfred circled around Ivan slowly, fists lifted defensively. It was hard to see in the darkness of the room, and each time Ivan circled into darkness, Alfred put his guard up even higher.

"Yeah, Jones, you brought him here." Ray cut in, ignoring the threatening call for him to shut his mouth. "What did you expect, some kind of fucking welcome party? You're so fucking stupid."

"_Shut up!"_ it was Alfred this time, shouting furiously at the other. Wasn't he already feeling guilty enough without be reminded? There was a short silence, other than the soft scuffle of feet on the floor as Alfred circled just out if Ivan's reach, and Ivan just out of Alfred's.

"You knew?" Alfred stopped immediately, turning towards the sound of the whisper. He could see Arthur's shadow towards the corner, standing. He couldn't see his face. "_You knew?_" Alfred, oblivious with worry, didn't hear the hate spewing from his partner's voice.

"Arther, are you ok?" relief leaked into his voice, and he took a step forward. "I was really worried, I couldn't see anything and..." he was cut off abruptly as two hands slammed into his chest. Normally, he had very good balance, and would have been able to stay on his feet, but he was so surprised by the violent shove that he stumbled backwards and fell flat on his butt. Dazed with surprise, he stared up at the shadowy figure before him.

"Don't." there was a pause, and Alfred could hear a shuddering intake of breath. "Talk to me. I don't want to see your face, Alfred fucking Jones. Don't talk to me. Ever. Again." there was malicious intensity behind the words, and Alfred could only stare as Arthur strode past him and out of the building. He sat there in stunned silence as he attempted to process exactly what had just happened.

"Wow, Jones." said a sarcastic voice to his right. "You fucked up good."

"Shut the hell up." he snapped in reflex, standing and stalking out of the room. That was how he ended up sulking down the path towards camp, bleeding from his lip and several places where skin had been scraped off of him. In retrospect, he hadn't been hurt as badly as he could have been, but again, he was less worried about himself and more worried about Arthur.

Matthew was on him as soon as he entered the dim circle of light cast from the waning fire. "What happened?" he whispered intently, his violet eyes flickering as he stared into Alfred's.

"What? What do you mean?" Alfred asked, looking away, trying to still his shaking voice.

"Don't play dumb." Matthew replied, easily seeing through Alfred's attempt at lying. "I saw Arthur when he came back."

Alfred choked when he tried to swallow, and whispered, "Did he talk to you?"

Matthew gave him a disapproving stare. "No. He walked right past us." he gestured behind him, where Gilbert, Francis, Antonio, Romano and Kiku were still goofing off. "Francis went to go talk to him, but Arthur completely ignored him. [[Author's note]] I know you guys went off somewhere, and I want to know where you went and what happened."

Alfred shifted on his feet, and looked at the ground. He chose to remain silent.

Matthew gripped his arm and gave him an intense glare. "Right _now_, Alfred Jones."

Alfred cringed. "I... I just... It was... He... Ivan..." he stuttered out before falling to a halt. Then, without his consent, the whole story spewed out his mouth, and Matthew's facial expression changed into one of increasing horror.

"Alfred!" Matthew said when his twin finally stopped his word vomit. "That was horrible of you! Why'd you do that?"

Alfred drooped. He was exhausted. He didn't feel like being scolded by his brother; he only wanted to apologize to Arthur, make it better, and go to bed. "I didn't mean for it to be like that." he whimpered.

At that moment, Francis strode over and draped himself over Matthew's shoulders. After the first year of camp, both Matthew and Alfred had become used to the other's insistent touches. "_Mes amis."_ he said, grinning with his lips, but not with his eyes. There was a cold sort of protectiveness blooming in those blue irises, and it made Alfred shiver. If he thought he was in deep shit before, he sure as heck was going to be now. "Tell me, Alfred, what have you done to _mon Angleterre_?"

Alfred instinctively shifted back a step, flinching. He gave Matthew a pleading look, but his twin returned with a gaze that said 'I'm not gonna back you up this time.' With a sigh, and feeling more and more tired by the second, Alfred related the story again. With each passing word, Francis seemed to grow even angrier.

Finally, before Alfred reached the end of his story, he burst out in rapid French, "_Que l'enfer, _Alfred! _Comment pourriez-vous faire quelque chose si crument stupide? Ridicule, horrible, insensible, moron putain! N'avez-cous pas de sens votre cerveau?"_ He stepped forward to emphasize this last point by rapping his knuckles sharply on the crown of Alfred's skull. Matthew was nodding in agreement – he spoke fluent French, and annoyed Alfred by calling him insults in the language when he was angry – and Alfred cringed a little more.

"I'm sorry!" he said, not as quietly as he had wanted to say it. "I fucked up, and I realize that! Why are all you people on my freaking case?"

Francis gave Alfred a disdainful frown. "You don't know what you're dealing with here, Jones. I suggest you give some serious thought to whatever you plan on saying to Arthur next time he gives you a spare second of the day."

Frances walked off, throwing one more degrading glance at Alfred over his shoulder, and Matthew soon followed, thought the look he gave Alfred was a little more sympathetic.

When Alfred tried to apologize to Arthur that night, his words fell on deaf ears.

~.~

Arthur jerked awake suddenly, inhaling sharply as terror swept over him. It took several laboring seconds for his mind to realize that he had been dreaming. He sank back against his pillow and closed his eyes, bringing a shaking hand to his forehead. It had been a while since he had last had a nightmare, or at least, a nightmare like that one. He willed the images in his mind away, trying to ignore the shadows of personal horrors that hovered over him.

He turned over in bed and squinted at the digital clock he had set up on his and Alfred's dresser. It was almost six in the morning, and the sun was already casting dull light into his cabin. He rolled back over onto his back and stared at the board above his head, collecting his thoughts and vigorously forcing away the unpleasant ones that bombarded him. With a sigh, knowing he would not be sleeping any longer that night, he sat up in bed and winced as his entire body protested. His scraped elbow had to be pulled away forcefully from the fabric of his sheet, and he grimaced at how gross it looked, with the cotton fibers attached to his skin and blood staining the white of the sheet. He quickly examined himself for other injuries, but only found some scrapes on his palms, a small knot on the back of his head, and some bruising on his wrists and ribs.

When he had taken inventory of his injuries, he sat up and slipped his feet out of bed. With a tired wince, he stood and moved to pull fresh clothing out of his drawers. A shower would do him some good. The sound of sheets rustling above him caught his attention, and he glanced up. His body instantly stiffened, and he glared coldly at the bleary blue eyes peering at him from above.

"Erm... Hi, Arthur." the voice was quiet and sleepy, and Alfred squinted at him without his glasses.

Arthur could feel the memories fighting for his attention, a black shadow hovering just at the corners of his mind. Seeing Alfred's face, knowing he had been apart of what had occurred last night... It made his stomach tighten in disgust, but also in pure panic.

In response to his rising dread, he forced any and all emotion away, clamming up on the inside. He pulled his lips into a scowl and stood abruptly, marching as quickly as he could from the room without actually running and portraying the fear that gnawed at his gut. He entered the bathroom and quickly focused himself on the first thought that came to mind. The bathroom was disgusting. He locked onto this, and was able to ignore the torrent of thoughts at the back of his mind.

He showered quickly, barely able to enjoy the hot water due to the sheer grossness of the building, dressed and then swiftly walked back to his cabin. He was keeping any and all thoughts at bay, since he had nothing good to focus on, just staring blankly ahead as he went through the motions. He found that it was better this way, or he'd be consumed by the fear, or overwhelmed by the anger. When he entered, Alfred was sitting up on his bed, glasses perched on his nose, looking like a kicked puppy.

"Arthur." he said, and Arthur turned cold eyes on him. "I'm really, _really_ sorry."

Arthur's lips pursed together tightly, and he glared with all his might. Francis had always told him that his full-force stare was pretty intimidating, and it seemed that Alfred agreed with him. The American flinched backwards, cringing away from the intensity of Arthur's accusing gaze.

Arthur glared for a while longer, then turned towards his bed and clambered in, picking up his book from the dresser next to him. He opened it almost violently, unintentionally tearing a page a little. He stared at the rip for a moment, then blinked and glanced away. He really was angry. He couldn't remember the last time he had been this completely and utterly pissed off. He stared at the rip in his book and absently rubbed his bruised wrists.

Actually, he could remember the last time he was this angry. His brother, Collin, had suffered his cold glares, his never ending silences, and his biting remarks. Arthur did not come to a full on vengeful rage easily, and he found that in this situation, and that situation, he was fully justified.

_I never really made up with Collin._ Arthur thought to himself, a little wistfully. His brother had left home in a fit of rage somewhere in the middle of Arthur's cold-shoulder act, and he hadn't had a chance to speak with his brother since. _Of course. _Arthur mused to himself. _He doesn't deserve my forgiveness._

This thought led to the pensive question of, _Does Alfred deserve my forgiveness?_

~.~

Matthew hated awkward silences. He hated tense atmospheres. He hated quiet where there should be noise. He hated, hated, _hated _these things. They made him more nervous and jumpy than normal.

He was currently in said awkward situation. His twin brother, Alfred, was hunched over his breakfast, quietly picking at the chocolate chip waffles. Arthur sat across from him, angrily jabbing his fork into an abused piece of toast. Gilbert was not helping, because he was an awkward morning person anyways.

"So!" Matthew suddenly burst out, his voice cracking with anxiety. "What activity do we have today?"

Alfred gave him a miserable glance, then went back to poking his long soggy waffles.

"The assignments aren't up till after breakfast." Arthur reminded him coolly, and silence settled over the group again.

Matthew wanted to fall over and die right there. He was not good at things like this! How was he supposed to cool the tensities between his brother and the saucy Brit he would like to think of as his friend? He fidgeted nervously as he went over the events of the previous night.

Matthew had been utterly appalled when Alfred had spilled what had happened. He was shocked, and couldn't really believe that his brother – Alfred, who was so kind hearted and sweet – had done something so... so... scaring! Even if Arthur hadn't suffered what he had suffered, it would have been a horrible experience for anyways.

And yes, Matthew had at least a vague inkling of the terrors of Arthur's past. Francis had pulled him aside after Alfred had retired, and murmured a version of the story to him in lilting French.

In short, the young man had been raped.

Matthew had been horrified, and then it had dawned on him exactly what Alfred had _done._ Francis told him that Arthur was getting better, getting over it and now.. Now... Well. Matthew hadn't been oblivious the night before. Arthur had had nightmares, and the other boy knew it. They were certainly not screaming, kicking night terrors, but it was clear to Matthew that his dreams were not pleasant.

Now, here he was, stuck in an awkward situation by all means. He was at loss for what to do. Did he talk to Arthur and try and convince him that his brother was an idiot and let his competitiveness get in the way of his common sense? Or did he tell Alfred what Francis had told him and betray Francis' trust, hoping that Alfred would make use of the information and make things right? Or should he just sit back and not meddle like he _so wanted to do _and let his twin and his new friend work it out? His mind was just going in circles now, and he wanted to rip out his hair.

Maybe he should try talking to Francis again.

~.~

It was worse for Alfred in the morning. He wanted so badly to apologize to Arthur and make it right, but his companion wouldn't have it. Alfred had hope that maybe, just _maybe_, last night when he had apologized the Brit was already asleep and just couldn't hear him. This morning, however, when Alfred apologized to a clearly awake Arthur, there was no denying that he had heard him.

And flat out rejected him.

Alfred couldn't stand the silent treatment. He was a social person, and talking was part of him. Talking, and listening, and sharing his opinion, and, and... He couldn't be _silent _and being on the receiving end of such a cold silent treatment was like torture for him. Matthew had given him the silent treatment before, but he had cracked before it had gotten too out of hand.

But now Alfred just felt like crying. Arthur wouldn't even look at him. Whenever Alfred tried to talk to him, he was brutally shunned. He might receive a glance every once in a while, but they were definitely not friendly glances.

Alfred, though, couldn't resist the challenge behind this silent treatment. He had always had a problem resisting a challenge – it was why he was in this mess in the first place – and he couldn't resist this unspoken one. It wasn't just the challenge of getting Arthur to forgive him though. He honestly, truly wanted to get to know the other boy. The small bit he had seen before he had gone and screwed up was enough to get him addicted. He was fascinated. He couldn't deny that he really, honestly wanted to know the other.

Despite this, he knew he had little to no hope of reconciling with Arthur. Every time he tried to talk to him... well, it was already clearly established that Arthur refused to speak to him. It was like trying to talk to a wall, except a wall wouldn't try and glare him into stone.

He went through breakfast, then through their first activity, then through lunch, all in silence that threatened to drive him insane. He was twitching by the time they reached the non-mandatory rest period, and predictably, Arthur slipped away from him to go to the cabin. Alfred took this opportunity to pull Matthew aside, and his twin had the decency to follow him willingly.

Alfred stood quietly in front of the imploring eyes of his brother for about two seconds before he burst out, "I can't stand it anymore!" they were hovering at the mouth of the trail that lead to the lake, and Alfred was twitching nervously back and forth from one foot to another. He ran an anxious hand through his hair. Once. Twice. Three times. "I'm going crazy! No one I've tried to talk to hasn't not talked to me for this long!"

Matthew raised an eyebrow at his twin. He had never seen the bright, bubbly blond like this before. The guilt must really be getting to him, and Arthur's lack of forgiveness was just driving the nail into the coffin. "Alfred." he said, but Alfred wouldn't look at him. His eyes shifted back and forth wildly, and he really did look crazy for a minute. "Alfred!" Matthew said a little louder, and his twin finally met his eyes. "You have to call down. You're gonna scare Arthur away even if he wants to accept your apology."

Alfred seemed to consider this, and calmed down, his movements stilling and his hands dropping to his sides. "Ok." he said simply.

Matthew patted his shoulder. "Good." he nibbled his lip, considering his next move. "Maybe you should talk to Francis." he finally suggested.

Alfred nodded and wondered what Francis could possibly do to help him.

~.~

_Translation: _

_Que l'enfer, _Alfred! _Comment pourriez-vous faire quelque chose si crument stupide? Ridicule, horrible, insensible, moron putain! N'avez-cous pas de sens votre cerveau?_

"What the hell, Alfred! How could you do something so bluntly stupid? Ridiculous, horrible, insensitive, fucking moron! Do you not have any sense in your brain?"

_Yes, it's probably a horrible, horrible translation of the beautiful language that is French, but srsly. I'm not multi-lingual, so I cheated and used google translate. I'm sorry ^^" I'm horrible, I know. _

_OK! Since I'm all dying of exhaustion – don't ask – I'll try and make this quick. First and foremost, I'd like to apologize for the flatness of my characters Ivan, Jake and Ray. Their place is this story is probably definitely OC, since I don't really know their personalities anyways. I think I've read maybe one fic about Ivan and Jake each – or, rather, about Russia and Australia – and I don't know their personalities well enough to be comfortable using them in a way that...well...is... IC. I guess. So again, apologies for the flatness of them. They will probably remain that way. /shot_

_Also! Sorry for my homonym failure. Accept, Except, To, Too, sometimes even Red and Read... The meaning of each flies right over my head. I'm horrible with homonyms, and always have been. It's no excuse, and I hope you'll forgive me for it. _

_I feel like this is really horrible so far ._. Maybe I should have written it by hand first. I tend to do my best writing when my pencil meets paper before my fingers meet keyboard. _

_I might do that for the next chapter. For now, though, try not to kill me too badly for the horrible/choppy/crappy/blah/blah/blah/degrades story line/ blah chapter/story. _


	7. I give up on Chapter Titles

Arther had slipped away right after lunch. He was grateful for the opportunity to be away from Alfred, and from the sympathetic looks of Matthew. As much as he liked the other lad – liked him a _lot_ more than Alfred at the moment – it was impossible to endure the constant looks of pity being cast at him. A person could only take so much before they wanted to throw their hands up and shout for them to _stop looking at him!_

It was a frustrating circumstance for Arthur, honestly. It wore him out. It wouldn't be so bad if it was just Matthew giving him those looks that he despised, but it was also Francis. As much as Arthur hated to admit it, the Frenchman knew as much about his past as he did, which invoked _knowing _looks that left Arthur scowling.

_People just need to mind their own business._ Arthur though wearily as he trudged down the path towards his cabin. There were a few other boys littered along the path as well, but none that he was completely familiar with. He didn't speak to him, and they didn't speak to him. A sort of subdued silence settled over Arthur's shoulders, and he stared begrudgingly at the ground he as he plodded along. His body automatically moved him into his cabin, kicked off his shoes, and lay him down in bed.

He closed his eyes, settling back into the comforting softness of the pillow below him. In all honesty, this rage fest that he upheld against Alfred was exhausting him. The mental stress of trying to subdue raging memories and emotions wasn't fun for him. He hadn't expected when he came to this camp for portions of his past to be shoved in his face at all. He might have worried over things being relieved a little, but he had brushed this all off as him just being paranoid.

_Not like what happened to you is even clear to anyone. _He reminded himself sleepily. It was true, he hadn't explicitly told anyone about anything, and he certainly wasn't planning to do so anytime soon. But there was always the frog. He was the only witness to Arthur's horror at this camp, besides Arthur himself, and he was a lot freer with his trust. From the looks that Matthew had been giving him, Arthur wouldn't have doubted that the dam Frenchy had gone and blabbed the entire thing to him.

_Which means you should go see. _A quiet portion of his brain whispered to him, but he was already slipping beyond the conscious world, into the depths of his mind. How quickly he fell asleep was clear proof that the entire ordeal was really getting to him.

~.~

_It was dark. Darker than night. Too dark to see. He felt like he was floating, floating in the inky, murky blackness that surrounded his limp body. It would be almost calming, if he didn't know what came next. It didn't come as a surprised to him, but his body still jerked in fear, and he began to quiver uncontrollably, sending the blackness out around him in ripples that jerked back and intensified his fear. _

"_Arthur." It was that voice that sent volleys of terror through his body. "Arthur." quiet, whisper-y, terrifying voice that haunted his waking and sleeping. "You're a very pretty boy, Arthur."_

_A ghost of a touch across his flesh, and his entire body convulsed in attempt to get away from that unwanted sensation. His mind screamed at him to get away, to run, to flee, but the darkness held him in undesired stillness, continuing to amplify his fears full force back at him like an echo. _

_A soft chuckle, and a breath caressed over his ear. "Silly. I won't hurt you." Another touch, and the blackness started to fade. Arthur knew this part of his dream too, and tried to break from it, but he couldn't. He couldn't fight the strong grip of this imagined reality._

"_Don't struggle." the voice murmured as Arthur's surroundings began to fade in. "You'll hurt your wrists."_

Tied. _Arthur thought to himself as he tried to move his arms. They were tied above his head with rough material, but what it actually was – rope, or cloth, or some other substance – was a detail that escaped him entirely. He felt it burn over his skin as though it were actually happening, rubbing his small wrists raw as he fought. _

"_Are you ready for me, love?" the tone was gentle, deceivingly so. Arthur struggled harder, because he knew what was coming. He always knew. _

_His body tensed, and that unfathumable pain, pain, __pain__ flooded his system. It overwhelmed him, took over his senses, bombarded him with inexplicably unbearable sensation. He couldn't move as wave after wave of hot agony washed over him, drowning him. He tried to scream, but his captor had planned for it. A gag stretched between Arthur's lips, cutting off the sound. _

"_So _tight_!" he registered vaguely as the other moved. He could feel himself stretch beyond capability, and wetness dribbled down his thighs. His mind screamed, even as his mind couldn't. He writhed unconsciously, trying to contain the unbearable hurt that shot up his spine from a place that was supposed to be so personal. _

"_Violated." it was a different voice, as the scene he had been trapped in faded, and he __was placed in a blissful darkness. He was numb here, and couldn't feel anything. "Used. Dirty. How awful."_ _They hadn't thought he could hear them. He had been asleep, or he was supposed to be. They were whispering as she hovered over him, and as he stood further away, too disgusted to get nearer. _

"_...liked it."_ _He heard, but he couldn't make out the rest of the sentence. The dream was fading, fading... _

~.~

Matthew led Alfred to where he knew Francis would be. It wasn't far from where he and Alfred had been, and Matthew was glad for that. He was having trouble corralling his brother, who was having distraction issues. Every two seconds, he would stop and say, "I should really go talk to Arthur _right now._"

To which Matthew would respond with a patient sigh, "No, Alfred, you really have to talk to Francis first."

And then Alfred would say, as whiny as he could manage, "But he's totally _pissed _at me!"

Matthew would say, "Arthur is too. Common." and they would walk a few steps further before Alfred started it all over again.

Finally, _finally,_ they reached their French friend, who almost seemed to be waiting for them, leaning against the back of the mess hall, where the bus was parked. When Francis looked up, he did indeed look pissed.

"Don't yell at me!" Alfred said reflexively, wincing away from him as Francis pushed off his leaning place and moved forward. "I really didn't mean to do whatever I did that's such a big deal!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, but sent Francis a warning look. It was a tricky topic. If Alfred felt bombarded with accusation and blame, then he wouldn't ever get it, but if they were too soft on him, he would skip along with life wondering what the hell Arthur's problem was.

Francis caught Matthew's look and paused in his menacing cat-stalk towards his American companion. He took a steadying breath and said, "I'm not going to yell."

Alfred looked surprised. "Really?"

"No, of course not." Francis shook his head firmly, and glanced at Matthew, before uttering off in French, "What exactly do you suggest I do with him? You're his twin. Tell me what you think is best."

Alfred was pouting sulkily off to the side as Matthew responded back in rapid French, "I brought him to you to get your advice. Should we tell him..." Matthew hesitated, giving Francis a pointed look.

The other raised his eyebrow. "I trusted you with that particular knowledge because I know you won't blab it to everyone in sight. Him, however..." he gave Alfred a critical stare. "I'm not so sure."

Matthew scoffed. "He wouldn't tell."

"Still, Matthew, I don't think Arthur would appreciate it."

"Would he appreciate you telling me?"

"I think he would understand my reasoning."

"What exactly is your reasoning?"

Francis glared at him. "I don't have any reasoning! But I'll come up with something if he questions me." a smirk flashed across his face, and he opened his mouth to say something more before Alfred interrupted him.

"Excuse me!" he said. "I don't speak French. English please."

Just to piss him off, Francis replied in French, "None of your business, Alfred."

Matthew chuckled, but nodded in agreement. "Don't worry about it, Alfred." he said in English. "We were just discussing things."

"Discuss them in English! Not French! _English!_" It was a rare moment of obvious irritation for the blond, and he pouted moodily at his twin. "You said Francis could help me apologize to Arthur! Why hasn't he helped me yet?"

Francis scoffed. "Stop pouting like a child, Alfred. And why on earth you tell him that Matthew?"

"I didn't!" Matthew replied indignantly. "I said maybe we should talk to you! I don't know where he got that you could help him."

Alfred's bottom lip stuck out in an even farther pout. "Then what am I supposed to do?"

A silence fell over the group as Francis considered this question. Matthew decided to keep quiet; after all, he didn't know Arthur, whereas Francis seemed to know him on an almost intimate level.

"I think..." Francis said slowly. "That you shouldn't give up on him." he suddenly looked infinitely tired, his lips turned down in an uncharacteristic frown, his eyes shining with some clouded emotion that Matthew couldn't place.

Alfred looked confused. "What? I don't understand!"

Francis smiled. "Somehow I'm not surprised, _mon chere_." Alfred opened his mouth to reply, but Francis cut him off. "However. It is simple. Just keep being yourself towards him, and don't be put off by how cold he might or might not act towards you."

Alfred frowned, and gave Matthew a questioning glance. "What?" he asked again.

Francis resisted the urge to face-palm and stalked up to Alfred, gripping his shoulders tightly and glaring directly into his sweet blue eyes. "Don't give up on him!" he said, then stepped back. He gave Alfred another strong glare before he turned to Matthew and clasped his shoulders as well, smiling fondly. He rambled off in French, "Make sure your stupid brother doesn't do anything _too _stupid." With a cocky grin and a wave, he trotted off, leaving a flushing Matthew and a puzzled Alfred.

The two stood in silence for a while, before Alfred broke it with a questioning, "Don't give up on him?"

Matthew considered how much mental damage Alfred would suffer if Matthew slammed his head into a nearby rock, but refrained because he knew that would be considered abuse. Instead, he said, "Alfred, just be his friend."

Alfred's confusion cleared just a little bit, and he nodded. "Oh! I can do that. Ok!"

~.~

Arthur woke with a gasp, his eyes snapping open. It didn't take very long for his mind to shoo out the bad thoughts, however, and he relaxed. His hands were gripping the rails of the headboard above him, and he released them slowly, wincing as his bones and muscles tightened up in a cramp. He flexed them slowly, trying to work out the tenseness in them.

This wasn't the first, nor would it be the last, time he woke up in such a state. He had thought that maybe he had stopped having such dreams a year or so ago, but the dream he had had last night and then this one only a few moments ago had proved that belief wrong. His mum had warned him that there were triggers everywhere that might awaken the bad dreams, but he had always considered her argument a moot point. He thought it silly of her to tell him to be cautious, when she herself turned around and sent him away to boarding school, a place crawling with said 'triggers'.

Arthur continued to lay in bed, staring at the board above him. His mind was perpetually blank, but he wasn't sleeping. He was aroused from his staring into space daze when the screen door to his cabin opened and slammed. He glanced towards his feet to see Francis enter. He scowled. "What do you want, frog?"

Francis didn't answer him verbally, but marched right up and wrapped one hand around the back of Arthur's head, pulling him upright into an intense kiss. It was brief, and Arthur didn't have time to react before Francis pulled away with a _pop_. It took a few more seconds before Arthur sat up, scrubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. "Francis!" he shouted with a scowl. "What the hell!"

The Frenchman grinned widely, and moved out of striking range. "You looked to be sleeping, _Angleterre, _so I woke you with a kiss."

Arthur's scowl deepened. "Well don't do it again!" he replied, but there was no real threat in his tone.

Francis nodded innocently. "Of course, _mon chere. _Anything for you." he winked.

Arthur wrinkled his nose at him, and settled himself cross legged at the edge of his bed. "Why are you in my cabin?"

The other cocked his head. "Can I not visit my friend without being questioned for my motives?"

The Brit sighed tiredly. "You came to check up on me." it was not a question.

Francis smiled, but it was not a merry grin as it was before. "You cannot blame me for being concerned. Clearly this is not something that would not have... Negative effects, Arthur."

Arthur shook his head in disgust. "I'm fully capable of dealing with myself and my problems on my own, thank you very much."

He shrugged. "If you say so." he replied, and Arthur's green eyes met his. The Brit was surprised by the amount of worry that Francis' eyes held, and he flinched, breaking their gaze.

"Don't look at me like that." Arthur said, after a long moment of quiet. "It's unnerving."

"Sorry." was the response, and it didn't sound at all apologetic to Arthur. Another silence passed over them. "So what're you going to do about Alfred?"

Arthur's face darkened, and he shot a scathing glare at Francis. "There's nothing for me to do about him." he replied, his voice chilled with disgust.

"I think you should accept his apologies. He's really trying to be your friend, you know."

Arthur bristled. "He's not! What kind of friend would do that to a person? _Any_ person?" his voice lowered, and he muttered in an angry rant, "Dragging a body into unknown situations, with dangerous people, and then tossing them in to fend for..."

Francis interrupted him. "_Angleterre,_ listen. Alfred is a simple boy, and has a tendency to flutter off in the wind if he doesn't have someone there to, well, keep him on the straight and narrow, to say. He was dared to do it, and he couldn't resist."

"That's no excuse!"

"He didn't know!"

"...it's still not a decent excuse."

"You're a stubborn old man."

"I'm hardly old."

"Stubborn."

"Never said I wasn't."

Francis pursed his lips into a smile and said, "But seriously, Arthur. I think you should consider at least acting with civility towards him. He is trying."

Arthur crossed his arms and gave Francis a pouty glare, refusing to respond.

"I realize how upset you are with him, but maybe you should consider telling him _why _you're so upset."

Arthur's face darkened again. "Not on your life! Because I would tell someone I just met something so personal! It's none of his business anyways."

Francis opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Matthew and Alfred bursting into the cabin. Rather, Alfred burst into it, and Matthew calmly followed behind.

"Arthur!" Alfred crowed with renewed confidence in his eyes. "Guess what we have for second activity!"

Arthur pointedly ignored him after giving him a stony glare. He turned to Francis. "What does your group have for activity?" he inquired.

The Frenchman gave him a withering stare before replying, "I believe we have swimming." He gave Matthew a small smirk. "How dreadful."

Matthew rolled his eyes at him with a small smile. "We're hiking for second activity, Arthur." he told the stony Brit. "Two hours worth of it."

Arthur resisted the urge to groan. "That sounds awful."

Alfred nodded and jumped in enthusiastically, looking at Arthur with a hopeful, puppy-dog expression. "It's not so bad, Artie! It'll be a lot of fun! We go up past where they swim, and keep following a trail around the lake, that eventually circles back to..."

Arthur interrupted him. "You should probably get changed into swim trunks." he was looking at Francis, but it was directed at Matthew and Alfred as well.

Alfred drooped for a moment, coldly cut off once more, but forced himself to plaster a wide smile on his face. He would make this work if it killed him!

"Are you not swimming today, Arthur?" he asked, trotting over and diving under the bottom bunk of his and Arthur's bunk bed. He knew he had thrown his swim shorts under here somewhere.

Arthur wrinkled his nose in disgust. He was almost certain that he had told the other boy to hand up his wet things! "No." he replied curtly, his scowl deepening as Alfred wriggled out, holding his wrinkled and musty smelling shorts.

"You're no fun!" Alfred said cheerfully, shucking his shirt, followed directly by his pants. Arthur ignored him, and instead stood and followed Francis out the door of the cabin. It was better to talk to the frog than to watch Alfred strip.

Francis grinned at him and let the screen door slam shut behind him. He clapped his friend on the shoulder and said quietly, "Think about what I said, _Angleterre_. It might not be so bad having Alfred as a close companion." he winked, and lowered his voice even more. "I think he likes you."

Arthur glared after Francis as we walked away. Stupid frog. Saying such things. Stupid.

~.~

Arthur found it hard to concentrate on his book as he listened to the others splash in the lake and watched them out of the corner of his eye. It did look like fun.

He halted the thought before it went any further, and forced himself to look dutifully at the words printed on the page before him. He was not a swimming sort of person. He hadn't ever really liked the water, and thus, had never formally learned how to swim. If desperate times came to desperate measures, he could keep himself afloat, but he was no swimmer.

_So stop looking at them and wishing to join them. _He chastised himself, and began reading.

He had only been sitting and making himself concentrate on the pages for five minutes when someone big and dripping wet approached him, crowing his name in a loud and obnoxious voice that made Arthur scowl. "Common, Artie!" Alfred said, running up to him and spattering sand and water in his face. "We need to go back and change for our activity."

Matthew and Gilbert approached also, which gave Arthur a decent excuse to ignore his partner. He rose, keeping his eyes glued on Gilbert and making it clear that he was still giving Alfred the cold shoulder. He could see Alfred slump out of the corner of his eyes, and the sadistic side of him gave a smirk in triumph.

Matthew and Gilbert were joking loudly and shoving each other around as the four walked back to the cabin. Arthur remained quiet, though he was quite amused by their liveliness. Alfred joined in every so often, but was being strangely silent as well. He fell in step beside Arthur, but didn't say anything to the Brit.

_You really should forgive him._ Arthur chastised himself as he studied the quiet blond from the corner of his eye. _The summer won't be any fun for you or him if you keep it up._ It was true, he knew, but... He still wasn't ready to let by-gones be by-gones. What Alfred had done to him really hadn't helped his recovery at all (Arthur's mum called everything in Arthur's like 'recovery,' so Arthur had adopted the term). Arthur almost mused that he had relapsed, what with his terrifying dreams and all. He had only had two thus far, but still.

They got back to the cabin, and they all changed swiftly into hiking boots and long pants. Arthur was the only one who had packed bug spray, so he shared it, although a little begrudgingly. He would have to send his mum a letter and ask her to send him some more vi package.

~.~

_[_ Author's Note:

Sorry for the late update ._. I went to the Renaissance Festival, and got behind on school, and broke up with my boyfriend, and read depressing fanfiction, and discovered tumblr. So, pretty much, I've been distracted. They're bad excuses, and I will try to post more on time than usual.

The first half of this story I like; it gets really sloppy towards the latter half. I blame my distracted-ness, especially because I just got done reading the most freaking depressing/happy UsUk Fanfiction evur. Srsly. I died inside.

But yeah. Next chapter will be much improved, I hope. Leave a review, if you please.]


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